


And The Storm Was Overhead

by rapunzariccia



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Gen, more characters to be added with additional chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapunzariccia/pseuds/rapunzariccia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The leader of Baron's black mage corps returns from Mysidia, water crystal in tow. An alternate universe retelling of FFIV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"We'll be landing in Baron shortly, sir."

The world is much less cruel up here. The skies offer a peaceful respite from all the evils of man no matter who you might be, and smells all the sweeter, too. Below, the sea stretches out almost endlessly and shines and sparkles like a gem might, but all the men aboard the airship would rather be up high, close to the clouds and away from the stink of salt. The higher one flies, the freer they are, too: there might still be a deck to cover in only a few footfalls and orders to obey, but away from the ground one simply imagines themselves better off. Here there is only their own thoughts to distract them, rather than beasts and noise and all the distractions a world can summon to tempt a man. While freedom might not be what men truly wish for, time alone can do them a world of good on occasion.

"Sir?"

A Mysidian scholar once said that freedom was as much a prison as a dungeon. Many have since disagreed with him, but there is some truth to his words: when all that can entertain a man is his thoughts, flying above the clouds can torment him worse than four thick stone walls. It is a special breed of human that can think endlessly and not suffer from the madness that is self-criticism or philosophy even once. Thinking is the only torture that one willingly exercises upon themselves, and is seemingly inflicted now on the captain of the airship, who stands taller than the other men and frowns deeply. The crewman's prompting reigns his thoughts in, and he finally responds.

"Yes. Thank you."

Saluting, the airman retires, leaving his superior to stand tall and quiet. His stance does not change - back straight, arms folded, looking dead ahead - and the men wonder aloud about him. The wind snatches pieces of their words away and the high collar of the captain's uniform covers his ears, but he can still hear. He pretends not to, affording his men at least that much privacy, and is thankful for the low brim of his hat to hide his face further.

"Do you think it troubles him, too?"  
"It must do. What we did was reprehensible."  
"He doesn't seem like he cares. If you look at his eyes, I bet you won't see any regret there."

 _What we did was only so bad because they fought back,_ the captain thinks. Their orders had been clear: to retrieve only the water crystal. None were to be hurt, much less killed, but the Mysidians had been so insistent on keeping both he and his crewmen back that more than a few casualties had been incurred. Death shouldn't have fallen on any, and the mages had been told as much when first approached, but they had still flung balls of flame and shards of ice their way. Once the cannons on the airship began to smoke, the fighting quickly stopped, and the rest had been left alive, but it was enough to sit badly with the men. Death is death, even when it is a fallen foe, and it stinks worse than the briniest sea.

"Don't be an idiot. You can't see his eyes at all."  
"Monsters to starboard! All hands to battle stations."

Another voice cuts through the air sharply, silencing all gossip, and brings everyone to their senses. Up here the wind is sharp and vicious, but not enough to prevent men's minds being snatched away from the stupor work brings. The sky is no safe haven, and yet the men forget the danger of airborne beasts so easily.

They stop talking now, yelling orders at one another instead. The deck becomes a flurry of red limbs and gold helms moving to and fro, and in seconds the cannons are rolled into place and armed. The speed at which they work after such an uneventful period is impressive. In the distance, a great shadow beats its wings, and a horrific shriek reaches the mens' ears. The tension becomes palpable as the Zuu comes ever closer, and it cries out again. Several men lift their hands to their ears in a vain attempt to ward off the noise, their heads ringing, and the ones who remain rigid and tight with nerves are left to take control over the cannons. At the captain's side, an airman salutes.

"Lord Theodor?"

The beast is close enough now that the men can see the spines on its brow and back, and as it opens its mouth to shriek again, the needle-like teeth glisten in the sunlight.

"Fire."

The cannons' fire is only just enough to drown out the terrible noise it makes, and at least two shots make their mark on the creature. It beats its wings heavily in its attempt to slow down and dives out of sight. The wind's changed course is enough to make most men stagger, and the airship itself shudders in mid-air sickeningly. Theodor's hat threatens to fly off and be lost forever in the blue and clouds, so he holds it to his head with one hand. At his side, bent on one knee thanks to the creature's wing-beats, the airman asks him for further orders.

"Reload the cannons," Theodor says, and his voice carries to the men that are picking themselves up. "It won't let us be until it's dead. Watch all directions."  
"Yes, sir!"

The deck becomes a flurry of activity again, with orders being yelled and men peering over the side of the ship. Theodor ignores all this, keeping his grip firm upon his hat, and turns his head to view the arena that is the entire sky around them. Both ahead and behind them there is a great patch of cloud, perfect for concealing enemies, and a sky borne mage's best friend. He concentrates, and thinks of all the times he has seen lightning flash in the sky as his other hand is lifted and pointed at the great cloud behind them. 

He sees at least one man jump as the Zuu shrieks again and flies upward; it hovers above the aft of the airship and seems as though it will crush the deck with its talons. In such an offensive pose, it flank is completely exposed, and there are three great holes sitting there, blood running from every one. Behind it, the clouds rumble as Theodor keeps concentrating, and the men are readying their weapons to stab at the beast's feet should it get too close when the first bolt of lightning strikes. Startled, the creature twists in the air, looking for the unseen enemy, and Theodor signals for the cannons to be fired again.

It falls easily, leaving the deck unrent and crew unharmed. Men help each other up and roll the cannons back as the captain drops his hand and glances at them all.

"Is everyone alright?"

Some mutter answers as they tie the cannons down and let them to cool, some ignore his question altogether, and others nod and give firm assent. No one looks twice at Theodor, who has barely moved throughout the entire ordeal. The ship takes them through the cloud that they have been steadily advancing towards, and he flexes his hands as he turns toward the bow once more. The taste of magic still lingers in the air, though it is faint now and will be quickly left behind as they pass further through the cloud. It tastes of Mysidia's crystal room, of regret and disgust. Under his clothes, Theodor grimaces, and is glad no one sees. Better to let the men pass judgement on him and feel better about their own sins rather than have them feign worry for him.

They exit the cloud, and all on board feel better for it. The air returns to tasting clean, and the world below is beginning to turn green and brown. Even from up here the kingdom was easily visible, and the tension lifted further.

"We've reached the castle, m'lord. Prepare for landing."

It was as smooth a landing as the Red Wings had ever demonstrated. The smell of Baron rose to meet them as they came ever closer to the ground - stone, salt water, and the stink of people that only civilisation breeds. It seemed to Theodor as though the world above was nothing if not entirely pure, and let them go grudgingly, letting them return to their own evil. The captain made sure to keep his expression neutral, though he would have much preferred another day away from the stink of concentrated engine oil and sweat. One or two of the younger members of his crew cheered as they grounded.

Baigan was waiting for him as he disembarked. Two heads shorter and at least twenty years senior than the captain of the Red Wings, the Guard Captain was full of nothing but impatience that made itself well-known in his greeting.  
"Lord Theodor. I trust your journey went well?" The curt nod he received in answer seemed more than adequate, and he turned instantly to lead the way back into the castle. There was silence until they had entered the castle proper. "You have the Crystal?"  
"Of course, and with minimal casualties."  
"Our men?"  
"The Mysidians."

Without further exposition, the captain was left to ponder what that might mean, and simply _hmm's_ as they continued walking. His cape fluttered as they continued along, the gold trim catching the flickering light of the torches they passed - the sun was low in the sky outside now, and the brief flashes of colour were distracting. As they walked to the king's chambers, Theodor caught the sounds of metal clashing from the east and supposed the dragoons must be using the remaining light to spar or practise, and was promptly marched deeper into the castle. Past the mages' workshops and up a flight of stairs brought them to a room decorated with plush red carpet, at the far end of which two men stand in full plate and held pikes as they stand guard. Baigan led them both past the guardsmen and into the throne room.

The door swings shut behind them as they advance into the grand and imposing room. Heavy drapes hang here and there in a vain attempt to keep the stone from seeming so cold and unfriendly, and Baron's coat of arms hang behind the throne itself, lending just a bit more colour and gravitas to the room. The king holds no audience today, Theodor notes. No noblemen or soldiers shuffle awkwardly at either end of the hall or against the walls, but Baron's sovereign sits upon his throne regardless of this fact. Having no other person in the room makes the walk to the King seem that much longer; the feeling of one pair of eyes fixed upon them is uncomfortable, and the silence does nothing to make it better.

Ten paces from the throne, Theodor stops to sweep his hat off and kneel, while Bagain continues to the King's side and whispers in his ear. Odin listens, his gaze remaining trained on the kneeler, and then waves his right-hand man away.  
"Baron hails your return, Theodor. I trust you excelled in your task today. You have the Crystal?"  
"Yes, your majesty."

He produces the Water Crystal. It shimmers strangely; the light it catches is cast out again with a weird blue hue. It feels warm against his palm, and as Baigan approaches him once more to take it, he notices the light patterns the older man's hand with ripples as the ceilings of bath houses are. Then it is gone from his grasp and presented to the king, who examines it carefully. There's an odd expression on his face, as though he's restraining some emotion, and he doesn't take the Crystal for himself.

"It seems genuine," Baigan offers after a moment. The king's silence continues as he stares, and then with effort he wrenches his attention back.  
"So it does. My thanks to you and your crew, Theodor. Have you any thoughts?"  
"Your majesty?"

The question is completely unexpected. Theodor looks from the King to Baigan, both of whom are watching him carefully. _They expect me to say it was wrong to wrest the Crystal from the Mysidians,_ he realises. Thinking hard and quickly, he finds that no part of him feels strongly one way or another about the thievery or the murders he and his men committed. _In both war and peace, men die. That is the way of it._  
"Nothing in particular, your majesty."  
"Very well. And the Mysidians? Not all of them lie slaughtered, I hope."  
"No, your majesty. Several stood against us in the vain hope of protecting their Crystal, but once they were silenced, no others came forward."

Perhaps it is his imagination, but he thinks he sees the king smile faintly. He is graced with a nod before being waved away.  
"That will be all."  
With the dismissal, both senior men place their attention firmly back upon the crystal, hungry gleams in the eyes of each. Theodor leaves them to it without thinking further about the oddity that was the King's reluctance to touch the crystal despite the desperation with which the orders to take it came. Instead his mind focuses on the evening's meal and his pillow.

\------

The next morning brings nothing of note. Theodor rises, washes, and joins his fellow mages for breakfast, telling those who ask of the previous day's mission, and receives plenty of awed stares in return. One of the novices that had been listening in forgets about his food entirely, jaw hanging open, and it isn't until his friend makes off with two slices of toast that he realises what's going on. Once breakfast is over, they retire to their workshops to study and practise casting magic, and the excitement of having the day broken up is quickly lost. One of Theodor's understudies nearly reduces a desk to cinders just after the sun is past its highest point in the sky, and he is in the middle of scolding the boy when a scroll arrives for him. The mage is set lines as Theodor thanks the messenger and unfurls it, and his brow becomes ever more creased as he reads through it.

"What is it, Lord Theodor?"

The question goes unanswered. He rereads the document twice and holds in a sigh. _Barely a day back on this soil and already being asked to do more for the kingdom._ There is nothing he can do about it: the scroll is signed and sealed by the King himself, which means he has been personally selected for the job. To decline would be tantamount to treason. He thinks of the crafty look Baigan had in his eyes last night as he had been asked if he'd had any complaints, and knows that speaking his mind is something that he cannot do, not even to his most kindly benefactor, the King himself. He glances back at the room at large and notes his students hastening to appear as though they have been actually working and not gaping at his displeasure. More lines are set, and the day continues.

It isn't until much later until he confides in another. He chooses to talk to Harold, one of the most senior black mages, who he has spent a great amount of time working alongside. They sit next to one another at dinner and eat before anything else: soup and thick, fresh bread, and though Theodor ignores the flagon of sweet mead that accompanies every meal in Baron, his companion pours himself a generous helping. This is all done in silence, both men preferring to think rather than speak, and it isn't until Theodor is brushing the crumbs from his trousers and Harold belches heartily that they are both ready to talk. 

"So what was on that paper?"  
Theodor shrugs at first. His companion hadn't been present, but news of the mystery scroll had spread to what felt like every part of the castle. It is an insistent stare trained on him, burning into the side of his head, and Theodor can only ignore it for so long. When he turns to face the other man, he is met with a pair of eyes over the brim of a tankard, and waits for the mug to be set down upon the table again.  
"More royal orders," he says, but quietly. They have wasted enough time in the hall that they sit alone, but they are not the sole two people in here. "Mysidia wasn't enough for a single moon."  
"Oh?" Harold's eyebrows quirk upward, and he rests his weight on a single elbow propped against the table. "Where to next, Theodor? Eblan? Troia? Pretty soon you'll be the expert on the world's Crystals and how to seize them."

"I'd rather not visit Eblan anytime soon," Theodor replies, mouth twisting at the idea. "Targets that disappear in the blink of an eye are the last thing I wish to deal with."  
"Hear, hear." Too many times had both of them - had any mage - been outwitted by a monster that scampered about on quick-moving legs, or an enemy that could cast spells quicker than they could. Neither of them held any love for things that didn't blunder about in mail or had too many legs. Aiming something as unpredictable as fire at an enemy that was there one minute and gone the next was a waste of concentration and energy, better left to knights and archers.  
"No," Theodor continues. "Nothing like that, thank goodness. I've to find someone to travel to Mist with, within the week, and leave as soon as we're ready. A phantom beast resides there and requires a slaying."

He expects witty repartie - a slap on the back, a comment about how incapable he is of such a feat - but is met with a frown instead. Harold leans forward, all seriousness, and Theodor does his best to ignore the stench of soup and alcohol.  
"Does he mean for you to be cursed? You can't go."  
"There's no curses, Harold. It's just a valley, hidden by fog, and the worst thing there is-"  
"-beasts from the other world, and women that have sold their soul to demons. No matter how you spin it, it just isn't right, Theodor. You might be strong - I don't think I've ever met a mage as strapping as you - but I doubt even you could defend against the powers of hell itself. And even if you could-" and here Harold breaks off to swill his mead once more, never breaking eye contact, "-I doubt you would be able to defend wholeheartedly against joys of the flesh. You'll betray yourself and Baron, become one of their cursed bunch, and come back bringing death and destruction as you go."

The premise is so dramatic that Theodor has to snort and shake his head. "You're thinking too much of it. All I'll need is some steel at my back, to kill the creature, and then return. I won't even need to set foot into the village proper."  
While all he needs is steel, it is considerably more difficult to obtain than he had originally thought. He's heard of the horrors of Mist, every one - they're good tales to pass around in the taverns, always eliciting green faces upon the green man who promptly excuse themselves - but he's never believed them to be true, and hasn't expected anyone to take actual stock in it. Apparently, he is wrong. No matter who he turns to, no one wishes to step up to the challenge and lend him their weapons and expertise. Hardy men with scars obtained a world away turn pale and refuse, and those less experienced turn even stranger colours. He's sure he sees one man gesture as though to cast protective magic upon himself as he turns away. Melodramatic as Harold's tale might have been, it apparently rang true to everyone across the realm, and Theodor has to wonder whether this mission is an extended joke from the King.

It is two days after the scroll found its way to him that he finds one that would accompany him. Theodor is exiting the mages' workshop for the day, looking as weary as he feels as he wonders whether his head was worth declining a mission. He doesn't feel the eyes watching him from across the wall, too lost in his thoughts, and almost misses hearing his name as he trudges through the castle. His attention grabbed, he looks around furiously to see a man taller than most - though still a head shorter than Theodor - leaning against the wall, his ornate helm obscuring most of his face.

"I hear you've been having trouble finding men to go with you to Mist. It certainly looks that way from how you hold yourself."  
"Trouble might not be the right word." It certainly doesn't feel it anymore. Maybe the word itself is cursed. Again, he wonders whether it is possible to decline. "Everywhere I ask, people shy away from the word _caller_ , like they're some kind of demon that will murder them. It's just a village of summoners."  
"Women," Kain corrects him. "Terrifying enough in broad daylight. Women hidden by clouds, free to do as they please... is it any wonder people fear them? Being able to call beasts is just another thing to worry about."  
"Troia is made up of women too, and yet they escape rumour," Theodor replies, annoyed. He has only days left to find a partner to travel with, and is in no mood to be laughed at by the dragoon, no matter the tenuous friendship between them. Kain inclines his head, and it sounds as though the smirk has left his voice.  
"True. Regardless of the reasons, not many men would to Mist willingly. I'm surprised you're going at all."  
"I'm not afraid of a shadow beast and a few women. I'd be less afraid if I had a dragon atop my head."

At that, Kain laughs, and uncrosses his arms. "The day I'm scared of or bested by a woman is the day my honour has been completely dashed to the winds. If there are truly no men that will accompany you, I'll lend you my spear for a time."  
That, Theodor had not been expecting. The bustle of life seems to die away in the background as he weighs the man's offer. They're friends, but not the type that has known each other since childhood, and more often than not their relationship seems cautious as best. While it's been almost fifteen years that they've known one another now, neither are particularly comfortable with the other's company, but any help would be welcome for this task. The black mages do not often get days off, having to devote themselves to their craft entirely, but Theodor has seen the dragoons train in the grounds before, and been impressed by the way they handle their spears. He has no doubts at all that the son of the late Richard Highwind will prove himself most worthy if he comes along.  
"Thank you," he says, and means it. Kain nods as though it's nothing, and begins to say something else, though his chance is snatched away by the arrival of an out of breath boy.

"Lord Highwind! I've been sent to find you on behalf of Sir Aubert, sir!"  
Both men stare at the boy as he bobs nervously, half-bowing to Theodor, and looking earnestly at the dragoon. Kain nods at the boy and turns back to the black mage quickly.  
"How long have you before you leave?"  
"Plenty of time. Three days before I take whatever man is fool enough to come with me and leave."  
"I've business tomorrow. If you're not averse to my company," Theodor shakes his head, "Then the day after that should be perfect. Rest well in the meantime. I don't doubt we'll have use of your magic."

The two men nod at one another, and the dragoon leaves with the nervous aide. Theodor watches him go, grateful for the extended offer of help - it hadn't occurred to him to ask Kain, and now the offer has been presented and accepted, it feels a little foolish to have forgotten about that relationship. Sometimes Theodor thinks that Kain needs a friend - that he isn't necessarily lonely, but simply struggling with the burden of a late, great father and his legacy - and knows that he cannot be that person. There is too great an age difference between the two, and too little understanding of each other's problems and pasts. Kain has a lot to live up to, and he knows it, but not once has he ever complained. Once he has even overheard the young Highwind speak of his father and listen to stories of him from the other dragoons in turn, and there was a sparkle in his eyes that night that has only ever resurfaced whenever he speaks of dreams or honour.

It is late the next night when he is alone in his workshop. All his men have left to bed or to sneak out of the castle grounds and drink at the taverns, and he is clearing away scrolls and heavy books by low flickering torchlight, well aware that he ought to be resting and yet not feeling tired at all. There are footfalls approaching that halt in the doorway, and he doesn't turn at first, thinking it must be an understudy that forgot an item or paper in his haste to get away. When they don't come any closer, he straightens and turns with a great many scrolls gathered up in his arms to see who it is. He scolds himself in his mind for not turning sooner, and knows it must be easy for the young lady to see his surprise. She smiles as he hastens to bow and drops a scroll.

"It's alright, Theodor," Rosa says. He's bent over to grab at the dropped paper, and straightens again, more than a little nervously. "May I enter?"  
"Of course."

She does, movements graceful. She stops a few paces from him and glances around, interested despite herself. It isn't often that the different classes of mage get to look at each other's workshops: Theodor himself has never seen the area the white mages practise their magics in, but he feels it is probably the opposite of this almost war-torn domain. Scrolls litter the table again where he's dumped them unceremoniously, and thick tomes of the theory of black magic are crammed haphazardly into a bookshelf at the far end of the room. The day's stuffed straw target lay smoking at the back of the room, one arm completely charred to the torso. It seems shameful, somehow. He waits patiently for her inspection to end, trying to avoid looking at her directly - more than anything it feels impolite. Rosa is a pretty girl, and Kain's closest friend, but he does not have that same familiarity with her. More than anything he does not want to offend her - she is more than capable of looking after herself, he knows; she is the leader of the White Mage Corps, after all, but still just a much younger woman faced with he, head of the Black Mage Corps and a quiet fool around the company of others. She finishes her observation at last, and smiles at him again.

"I heard from Kain - you're going to Mist?"  
"That's right. Have you come to warn me of the devil women, too?" she giggles, and Theodor's cheeks grow warm as he realises what he's said and to who. He prays fervently that she doesn't think the description extends to her, or to any woman in Baron.  
"Of course not," she says instead. "If anyone can slay the phantom beasts, it's you two. No one else is even brave enough to go there. Still, these orders came so suddenly... so soon after you returned from Mysidia, too."

Not wanting to talk about Mysidia with her, he tries to change the subject. "I do not fear stories. Especially not with Kain at my back." The attempt does nothing; instead her face appears to darken, and she fixes him with her best hard stare. Theodor thinks back to the Zuu that had attacked his airship only a couple of days before, and decides that he would rather fight it alone than be fixed with this look for too long. Perhaps Kain knew what he was talking about.

"Something happened in Mysidia, didn't it? Don't," she says as he opens his mouth to protest. "I don't want to hear excuses, Theodor. Half the town's talking about it. A couple of your soldiers have been drinking themselves half to death, the rest of the men that went with you are silent, and rumour has it that the Water Crystal now rests behind our throne."

It is truly amazing how quickly a rumour can spread, especially those that are true. He wonders mildly which of the soldiers he had travelled with were the ones unable to keep their mouths shut, and is snapped back to reality as Rosa sighs. "You don't have to tell me anything," she continues. "I'm just... worried, I suppose. About the crown, about - I don't know."

Not for the first time, Theodor dislikes how separate their lives are, though it really cannot be helped. She and Kain no doubt talked often and knew where each other stood on a great many topics, but for the most part, she and he are strangers to one another. Her hesitance to speak of matters as heavy as this speaks volumes. He can't blame her - he himself knew not where he stood on a great deal of things. He has a tendency to ignore things that do not directly pertain to him, and avoids gossip. "Rosa," he starts, and is glad when she cuts across him.  
"I'm just worried. You don't need to say anything. Take care on the way to Mist, okay? Make sure Kain doesn't do anything rash. I've made him promise to look out for you, too."

He can't help but smile at that. He stands a good head over Kain and has a good decade on him, and yet this chit of a woman thinks it is he that needs looking after. Her good heart shines in this dark room, and he is touched that she would worry for a man that she barely knows.  
"I'll keep him out of trouble."  
"Swear it?"  
"I swear it."

It seems to satisfy her, and she nods, tension disappearing as best it can. She glances around the workshop once more as though hoping to see something that wasn't there earlier, and bends her knees slightly after she discovers nothing new in the most informal bow she can muster.  
"Good night, Theodor. Good luck."

\------

Kain is awake before the sun is risen the next morning, and waiting for Theodor to join him in the breakfast hall. He has apparently already eaten, and waits patiently for the older man to get his bread and meat. He is silent as the mage eats, double-checking over the equipment he has packed and the point of his spear, but it is a comfortable silence - the two are at least acquainted well enough with each other without needing to communicate for over-long periods of time, something that many others are incapable of doing. Once breakfast is over, Kain pulls a map from his supplies and spreads it over the table.

"If we head south to the chocobo forest, we'll shave a few days from our journey. It'll be a week on foot otherwise. Are you good to ride?"  
Theodor nods his assent, glancing only briefly at the map as he checks his own provisions. There is a small bag in his pocket that he pats several times to check it still exists there - inside it is a small silver ring inset with a carnelian gem. It is a gift from the King to Mist, who has given it him with the orders of presenting it as a peace offering after killing the beast that haunts the Mist mountains. Accompanying it was an expression that Theodor did not understand, but he has pocketed the ring, and it sits well-protected in his clothes. Kain asks him if he has everything, and he nods.

"Then let us depart."


	2. Chapter 2

Their journey turns out to be a mostly silent affair. It ends up as four days of very little happening, with Kain pointing out landmarks here and there, more for the sake of having something to say rather than segueing into actual conversation. It's not the first time either of them have left for the endless fields beyond Baron's walls, but that does not make it any more comforting. The world away from civilization remains strange and lonely and inhabited by too many little creatures that try to throw them from their chocobos. At least the birds themselves are friendly.

At night, Theodor repeats to himself over and over that saddle soreness is a small price to pay for a shorter journey to Mist. The fire they build crackles steadily and keeps them warm as they lay on their rolls. The mage lies there and tries to remember what blood flow to the buttocks feels like, and watches Kain buff his armour. After a time, he beings to wonder why it is _him_ that has been sent to Mist, instead of anyone else - the head of the Black Mage Corps and captain of the Red Wings ought to be needed within the castle, surely. His work keeps his every waking moment busy, and being away from that bustle doesn't feel right.

He wonders what Kain thinks of the great wide world, so different to the court life he's grown up in. The man seems completely at ease with or without a bed beneath him and doesn't appear to miss the endless formalities that his position demands. Nothing seems to surprise him. One night he sits at the fire and put his armour aside to pull out a small hand mirror and get rid of the stubble that's starting to cover his chin and jaw. It's all done in comfortable silence.

The lack of a true friendship between them occupies Theodor's mind for the next day. He thinks about it as they ride ever further toward the mountains, close enough now to see the peaks disappear into low cloud, and he thinks of it still as they dismount for the evening. His thighs are stiff from having ridden too far, and all he can consider are the few times he has spent time with another person comfortable. The sky turns dark as he contemplates. The dragoon mutters a _good night_ and rolls off on his side to sleep, leaving Theodor free to stare out of their tent at the remains of their fire and come to terms with being one of the few truly isolated people in Baron. It's an incredibly social environment, and those that keep to themselves are considered a rarity, and odd to boot. Not even Kain falls into that category of people, though he has noticed the boy shucking as much social responsibility as he can get away with over the years.

For the first time in a long time, he wonders what it feels like to have someone to depend on. Since coming to Baron, he's made his way on his own, never stopping to fall into the trap of relying on other people. A sidelong glance at Kain reminds him of Rosa, who's always appeared in time to help the dragoon when he feels overwhelmed. Though it's obvious there's something more the boy needs, it's more than Theodor has. For him there are books and scrolls aplenty, and tasks to do when they fail him, but that is it. Even the king, who so graciously took him in as a child, cannot spare extended time for him - but whether they had a truly familial relationship in itself is questionable.

It is a lonely train of thought to follow. When the sun rises the next morning, he banishes it from his mind, and prepares to travel through the mountains. Mount Mist is not the tallest in the range that hides the Mist Valley away, but a natural cavern winds through it. Workmen from Baron and Mist alike worked together centuries ago to fortify the walls and implement bridges over gaps in the floor. At one point in time they must have tried to have a supply of torches and kindling for travelers to use as they passed through, but they have long since fallen into disuse. The air is moist and dank, and the further they delve the more Kain seems irritated by it. Theodor guesses he must be sweating something terrible under the armour. They were able to follow a straight line for the better part of the day and spent as little time as possible walking it. The ground underfoot has made them slow now, but the effort of marching at a relentless pace where the air is less than comfortable has had its toll on the dragoon.

Even without that same level of discomfort, Theodor has to conclude that the Mist Cavern is a truly horrible place to be. If they stray from the pathway too much, the rocks begin to shift worryingly, and the bridge they crossed only a short while previously had groaned under their weight. The deeper they go, the worse their vision seems to get, too - Theodor has lit a branch aflame for them to navigate the dark cavern by, but there is only so far one can see when the mist seems to pervade every inch. Still, they press on relentlessly. It's only when a ledge appears out of nowhere and Theodor nearly loses his footing and stumbles that they're forced to stop and get their bearings.

"This is ridiculous," Kain grumbles. Theodor is inclined to agree. The cavern does not need reduced visibility on top of all its other shortcomings. It's a pain to walk on, the air is thick and cloying, and from all directions comes the chittering of imps and overgrown rats that call the damned place home. "I thought clouds were supposed to be atop mountains, not underneath them."  
Too busy adjusting his bags, Theodor doesn't answer. The village and the valley it rests in are named aptly. It feels as though the mist will never dissipate, that there's no getting away from its clammy fingers no matter how many layers one wears. It's no wonder the men of Baron don't wish to travel here - away from home soil and into a mountain range hidden from the rest of the world by a thick layer of cloud would make anyone uncomfortable.

His gripes unanswered, Kain lapses back into dour silence, and they continue on their way. They make their way down yet another small slope, and Theodor is wondering what time it must be when the air grows cold. Both men stop and glance at each other, and jump when an echoey voice rings out.  
"Turn back."

There is no further speech, but neither man moves for what feels like an eternity, both trying to figure out where the voice came from, and what it must belong to. At last, Kain turns to the older man.  
"The phantom beast?"  
"Possibly." Having no way of knowing what the beast is, or looks like, they can only think of the rumours that have been born from Mist. No one that has traveled this way has ever told a truthful tale, Theodor thinks, and all that fills his mind are succubi and beasts with five heads. "Be on your guard." The dragoon nods, and takes the lead.

They are on guard now: Kain's spear no longer rests at his back but faces point-first, and Theodor is doing his best to keep his mind clear and calm, all the better for spell casting. Nothing jumps out at them as they walk. They can still hear the noises of little creatures much further back, but it seems wild beasts are less likely to make their home deep in the cavern. Holding the torch behind him for a moment, Theodor can see a thin shaft of light far ahead, and decides it must be the exit. If they are lucky, there will still be a couple of hours of light left to them when they leave. It will be important to get as far away from the cavern as possible with what time remains to them - Mist is two days from the mountains, and this time they must make the journey entirely on foot. Provided the map hasn't been ruined by the damp air, they should have no problems finding the village, but it will still be a less than pleasant experience getting there.

They advance further, and the shaft of light seems to get stronger. The idea of getting away from the darkness and breathing in sweet, fresh air is so welcome that it is an ache deep at the core of both men. Every step brings them closer to that reward, and they are so close, _so close_ -  
They are so close and so preoccupied with the idea of freedom that they have almost forgotten the voice that rang out earlier. It speaks again as they are nearly rushing to the last set of steps that leads to the outside world.

"Men of Baron..."  
They halt, though neither want to remain in this place a moment longer. The voice seems louder than it was before, and they try to figure out where it is coming from. Kain's spear points ahead, but his head is angled to the side as he listens. Theodor flexes his fingers and peers out from beneath the brim of his hat as best he can.  
"Leave at once, and no harm will befall you. I will abide no further trespass."

The more he hears, the more Theodor is convinced that this is a truly horrifying voice. It grates on him like nothing else has ever done - a disembodied voice ought not to have so much _power_ behind it. He breathes deeply, trying to rid himself of the fear it has instilled in him. At his side, Kain grips his spear tighter, and calls back to it.  
"Show yourself!"  
Theodor wonders whether it would be more dangerous to turn tail and flee back to Baron, or to face the wrath of this phantom creature. Neither option appeals to him.  
"You mean to ignore my warning?" the voice asks them. Theodor takes another deep breath and tries to stop thinking.  
"Of course," Kain says. "We are here on behalf of the king of Baron. We cannot turn back."  
"So be it."

Those last words sound like they ought to ring through the cavern, a display of the beast's formidable power before it even appeared. Instead, they were delivered in the same flat tone that everything else it had said - powerful, but monotonous - and the mist begins to gather ahead of them. If they'd thought the air was thick and cloying before, it was nothing compared to now. The air knits itself into a being that is solid in form, and the face of a dragon glares down at them with piercing bright eyes. Its scales are the colour of the mist that cloaks the valley, and the mist itself has gathered thickly about it. Closer to the ground, the cloud has condensed so thickly that they cannot see its feet. Its tail coils tightly behind it, barring the men's exit, and its feet are faded into nothingness. It is, without doubt, the phantom beast that troubles Mist. To Theodor's left, Kain's knuckles turn white as he grips the shaft of his spear tighter, and he bends his knees in preparation to leap upon the beast.

The dragon snaps once, and with Kain now disappeared upwards, it turns its gaze upon Theodor instead. The mage is trying to forget how immaterial mist truly is, and instead focusing on the idea of the dragon being real and able to burn. The beast opens its mouth to reveal rows of jagged teeth and snaps at him, barely missing, and then hisses long and drawn-out as it angles itself for a second attack. Fire begins to appear between Theodor's extended hands as the dragoon falls back to earth, spear-tip first. The weapon punctures the dragon's flesh, which most certainly seems real, and it shrieks loudly. The noise echoes far behind them. Kain wrenches the weapon from the beast's shoulder and jumps back as its neck lashes around, now aiming for the most offending target. It makes contact. Kain yells hoarsely as teeth scrape against flesh barely covered by anything, and Theodor cannot spare a glance for him lest his magic go awry. He makes a shooing motion with his hands, and a ball of flame speeds away from him to hit the joint of a wing. The dragon cries out again and then disappears. To say that it is dead would be a lie, for before the men now floats a mass of thick, concentrated cloud that roils and moves as though alive. Theodor turns to his companion, who now holds the spear in the crook of his weaker elbow and has his injured arm tucked against his chest.  
"Are you hurt?"  
"Barely. The damn beast glanced my wrist."  
Theodor looks, and sees blood streaked across the back of his hand. It doesn't seem to be a large wound, but is enough to prevent comfortable movement.

"I can still fight," Kain says, "But my aim might not be as true. Cast the strongest thing you know and be done with it already."  
The mage nods, and shuts his eyes to better forget the other man's wound. Fire seemed to work well enough against the beast, so if he is able to muster up a larger flame then they should be able to fell it without problems. He hears Kain shift his weapon and crouch again, and opens his eyes in time to see the thick mist coalesce once more. The dragon reappears, unchanged from its previous appearance - one ragged hole in its shoulder, and a ferocity in its bright eyes that only an injured beast can muster - and Kain leaps. The dragon breathes deep of the dark cavern air and breathes it out again. Only seconds have passed, but even that was long enough to freeze the air. The rocky walls to either side of Theodor sparkle, and his face stings from the sudden change in temperature. Eyes watering, he concentrates on the beast once more, casting another fireball at it. Too late, the dragon notices it, and makes to twist away from the magic. It fails, and now its chest is smouldering. It rears its head back, teeth gnashing furiously, and looks as though it is going to breath frozen air his way again. Theodor is already calling the same burning magic back into the world again - under his gloves, he can feel his hands beginning to sweat, and knows that much more of this treatment will see his fingers blistering even under the protective leather.

Then Kain's spear point finds its mark again. It glances the dragon's shoulder hard enough for its head to be jerked downward, and it's enough to surprise the beast. The dragoon is jumping free of its vicinity when the final burst of flame presses forward and hits their foe. The dragon screams, and the sound is terrible. Its maw opens to breath another lungful of air in - whether to expel as another shriek or a final blast of cold, they never find out. Instead the beast stops moving, and begins to fade away. The cavern is just as full of dank air as it was before, but it feels much less oppressive with the dragon dissipated. Theodor turns to his companion.

The young knight's kneeling on the ground with an open potion bottle and gauze wrapping in front of him. The wound must smart, but he has received worse wounds from lesser foes before. His head is bent and he's dabbing the liquid onto the wound until it scabs over, and wrapping it when it does. It's as though he hasn't just faced a dragon for the first time in over a decade. Were he and Theodor closer, the older man would still hesitate before asking whether he was okay. Dragons are a touchy subject. They're nothing more than the thing of legends now, though there are those who can still remember what they looked like. Kain is one of them. 

Caught up with his thoughts and memories, Theodor doesn't notice the other man gathering his things up again, the wound fully wrapped now. It takes a tap on the shoulder to bring the mage back to the real world, and then they are marching to the exit of the cavern and gratefully breathing the refreshing air that awaits them. It's a world away from the claustrophobic darkness of the cavern. Everything feels fresh and clean and the fact that there is still sunlight remaining to them is incredibly uplifting. They check they haven't left anything behind, Theodor pats his pocket to make sure the ring is still there, and then they are on their way again.

By the time the world turns dark, they feel they've made little progress. Mount Mist still looms behind them, cutting the clouds apart with its peaks, but there is no hint of the village ahead of them. They had been expecting to see at least the faint flicker of lanterns in the distance to guide people through the valley, but it seems as though they haven't travelled far enough yet. The village of Mist is a couple of days away from the cavern, but evening torches often guide those from far away. Larger towns have larger beacons, and Mist is both very small and shrouded by cloud all the time. Instead of complaining, the men erect a tent as best they can and decide to light a fire to warm them. The wind sometimes howls through the valley, free to yell as it pleases away from Baron's lands: a clear taunt to the humans who cannot capture it and make it dance to their own tune. Tonight it sings high above, but does not disturb those on the ground. Kain stalks off to find a beast to spear and skin and upon returning, announces that the fire is almost impossible to see beyond so many paces. Whether or not the valley is cursed remains to be seen, but it seems it has certainly been named aptly. Theodor mentions as much and Kain grunts assent.

Over the next couple of days, the mist lifts some and they are able to see ahead of them much better, though the valley is still tinted white and the sky is obscured. Kain grumbles something as he helps to dismantle the tent one morning. It sounds suspiciously as though he wishes for his own bed again, where cold air doesn't turn his body and stuff damp. Theodor agrees with him. They press on regardless and try to put Baron Castle our of their minds. With any luck, the inn at Mist will be willing to have them for a night. It's this thought that pushes them on, and it isn't long before they finally walk far enough to see the first roofs in the distance. It's a blessed sight: the last couple of days have been filled with terse silence and non-stop walking, and nothing has brightened the journey. All that's accompanied them has been brush, steep rock, and the occasional monster scampering by. The sight of houses is a welcome one, and their pace quickens.

The sun is sinking as they reach the town. Their shadows stretch out behind them, and there are lanterns and torches lit all over the village. It's welcoming to see something so human, though there's no one waiting to meet them. This doesn't surprise Theodor, though he's wondering where they might find the leader and introduce themselves. Mist was given no warning that they were coming, after all - it had been a simple and kind-hearted whim of the King to send them here. He puts his hand into his pocket to take the ring out as they advance, better to have it ready to gift the head of the village with. The gemstone seems to glimmer as it catches the light of a nearby torch, and he pays it no mind.

Two steps forward sees Kain halt. Theodor stops with him and turns to ask him what's wrong, but Kain speaks before he does.  
"The ring!"  
He looks down. The ring is glowing now, brighter than carnelian has any right to be. Theodor holds it away from his body, and then as it heats up suddenly, throws it instinctively ahead of them. It's a good thing he moved quickly. The ring feels as though it shudders as it leaves his fingers, and there is a horrific cracking noise as the gemstone splits. It lands on the floor, and the men watch dumbly as a bomb struggles out of the crack. Another follows it, and another, until there is a small band of the mystical creatures floating in the air. Theodor has time to think _of course; carnelians are used in the construction of fire rods; how did I not see this coming?_ and then the bombs cackle. As one monster, they circle upwards, higher and higher, until the mist swallows them up, hiding them from view. The light changes as they ascend: the mist turns dark as though burnt, and the village itself seems to flow red in the strange light. Then the bombs rain down fiery hell, and everything is too bright, too hot.

Kain mutters something, but Theodor doesn't hear it. The mage is silent. The monsters wreck everything in their path, and the two men from Baron can do nothing but watch. Glass shatters somewhere and stone heats to the point of crumble. People start to appear as they try to flee the buildings, but it does them no good. They trip and fall and burn, or at met head-on with the bombs, who show no mercy as they explode. The villagers stand no chance, caught unawares, and as quickly as it started, the summoned beasts disappear again. It's over too quickly. Both Kain and Theodor have fought battles against people before, and neither of them are used to men and women dying without a sound. It isn't right. Everything is too quiet, now - neither soldier says a word, and the flames crackle steadily. Not for the first time, Theodor is thankful for the low brim of his uniform hat. It makes the heat much more bearable.

They stand awed for a moment, watching the fire spread steadily. It doesn't roar high, nor does it seem as hot as it should. The smoke will be easily veiled by the mist and low cloud that constantly surrounds the valley. It is, they realise, the perfect crime. They could retrace their steps now and leave the rest of the world none the wiser. Mist would burn until the flames died out, Baron's king would be pleased to know the job had been carried out, and they could get on with their lives as though nothing has happened. It is what is expected of them, that much is clear. Theodor turns again to face his companion, and says nothing. They stare at each other, and the question _do we return?_ hangs heavy in the air between them. The dragoon's helm reflects the red light and looks worryingly ominous. It was said that when dragons still lived, the colour of their scales reflected the element they would breathe out. Theodor thinks for a moment that Kain looks as though he might well have been the one to single-handedly bring the village to its knees.

His thoughts are interrupted by wailing. Kain jerks at the same time he does, and they look wildly around for the source of the noise, so foreign now to the silent, destroyed village they now reside in. Theodor starts to walk into the village and treads the ring he threw earlier into the ground. There's a path to his left, and it sounds like the noise is coming from that direction, so he takes it. Kain follows him. They walk in a dazed state, passing houses that have now only three walls, and the noise gets louder as they advance. They turn a corner and meet with utter despair. There's a raised platform ahead of them, and it's covered with flowers and bottles and things that glint in the strange red light. Though the smell of flame and smoke is heavy on the air, Theodor has no doubt that in any other situation the sweet smell would be almost overpowering, meant to mask the stench of death. Amid the wilting bouquets lays the body of a woman with her hands laced over her stomach. 

At her feet is a young girl with wild hair, a strange auburn in this light. Her face is hidden by her hands, and her latest wail peters out into a terribly sad noise.  
"Mom... please..."  
Theodor stands transfixed. He can't tear his eyes away from the girl. While he'd never expected to be the cause of an entire village's death, he's not ashamed by his actions - but he's never seen the aftermath of his actions before.  
"Just because your dragon died..."

Kain makes a quiet, surprised noise. Theodor turns his head and notes that Kain seems similarly transfixed by the girl, though he opens his mouth to speak. Whether it's the shock of the situation or that he just doesn't care, he doesn't bother to keep his voice low.  
"So they really are a people that could conjure Eidolons. The stories must be true. That means that the dragon we slew-"  
"Was her mother's?"  
Kain nods once, and the girl hears them. Her head snaps up to face them, and her cheeks are streaked with tears. She looks utterly distraught, and there's some kind of young, fierce confusion in her eyes as she stares at them.  
"You're - you're the ones that killed her dragon?"

The soldiers keep silent. They've already admitted their guilt; what would be the point in repeating themselves? The girl is glaring at them so single-mindedly that Theodor wonders if she's even noticed the state of the rest of the village, and is struck with the sudden, strange urge to apologise. He breathes in deeply in an attempt to clear his mind, and tries to ignore the way the heat feels as though it is scorching his lungs.  
"We have to kill her, too."  
"What? That's-" Kain's protest stops, and the men look at each other. The dragoon's mouth is slightly open, as though he can't believe what he just heard, and when Theodor thinks he's going to refuse, his shoulders seem to sag and his mouth shuts again. "... What horrible, foul work," he says, and his lips draw tight together in disapproval. The girl scrambles back and up, off her knees, as Kain takes the spear from his back and holds it at the ready. She looks terrified. Theodor looks just above her head, above her expression. He has to. Kain takes two steps forward, and Theodor follows behind, remembering the sequence of magic to bind the girl's limbs and stop her from fleeing.  
"Stay back!" the child yells, and looks frantically to either side for a way to escape. The men say nothing. Kain lifts his spear higher and shifts his weight, ready to leap at her and end her life in a single, fluid moment. " _Leave me alone!!_ " the girl screams, and she holds her hands out. Theodor recognises the tang of magic in the air that isn't his too late.

There's an incredible wave of energy that hits them both at the same time. Kain falters, Theodor staggers, and both are taken entirely off-guard as the air shimmers. The world seems to ripple, and a great man appears out of nowhere. He's taller than any of the trees that surround the area, and he looks like he's been carved straight from the mountain. His muscles are great and tense, his hands balled into fists, and a frown has been chiseled onto his face. Theodor almost forgets to breathe as he stares up at this giant, too occupied with the idea that this might be where he dies, body left to burn with all the other unfortunate inhabitants of the village. He barely hears Kain's wonder struck murmur of "The earthreaver!" and stands with his hands limp at his side, all spells forgotten. One gigantic fist comes whistling down to earth.

\-------

When Theodor next wakes, it is dark and silent. He's face-down on the ground, and for a moment all he can register is how fresh the earth smells when pressed right against his nose. He lies there listening to the world, and decides that he might well be dead. He has never known the world to make such little noise before. Baron is always moving, even at the latest hours. This is so different to what he's used to. It's nice.

He spends a while wondering whether he's alive or not until he realises that lying in this position is incredibly uncomfortable. It's with heavy limbs and extreme reluctance that he pushes himself upright. His head spins as he does so, and he leans back on his haunches slowly as he comes back to his senses. One thing is clear: he is most certainly not dead. The wind is blowing, and that helps to wake him further, as does stretching slowly. He finds that nothing is broken - a surprising feat considering the ferocity of Titan's wrath - and that the only things missing is his backpack full of provisions and his hat. The latter won't be missed, but the potions and food were important. It will be sorely missed, he thinks, and looks around.

Were it light, he might think the world was a very bland and colourless place. There are trees and bushes far off, and rocks and churned mud much closer. He's surprisingly close to the mountain again, though it strikes him as odd that there would be so much wrecked earth at its base where there was none before. The crags of the valley had been much further off the last he'd looked, and the air is clear. Too clear to be a part of Mist, it seems. He looks away from the rocks at his left, and sees another figure. It's too small and slight to be Kain, and he knows before he staggers to his feet that it's the girl that had summoned Titan. He makes himself get up and walk over to her anyway. She's silent, eyes shut and very pale, but her chest moves with short breaths.

Sinking down onto his knees again, Theodor shakes greying brown hair from his face and thinks he's glad he survived. Of all the ways in the world to die, being pummeled into the ground by a legendary being is likely one of the most impressive, but he prefers living to the alternative. He glances back to the left, wondering how they were carried two day's worth of walking away from the village - and realises that the impact of Titan's fist likely altered the landscape and hid Mist behind a new mountain. He looks up and sees that the new rocks aren't as tall as Mount Mist is. For a protective measure, it came too late for the village. He thinks suddenly of Kain, and realises belatedly that he's nowhere to be seen. Glancing around - too quick, the world spins again - reveals nothing new of the landscape.

Elsewhere, a monster whoops. The sound carries to the two battered figures by Mist, and Theodor realises that they are in the open. It's amazing they haven't yet been set upon by goblins or imps or whatever else this region is home to. Surely they'd have been alerted to the sound of the earth being rent open, and they are perfect targets for monsters. It's this that makes him think it would be best to get up and walk, no matter how much he hurts. He doesn't have a map, but there are stars out - there's cloud, too, but not nearly as much as there has been for a few days. Theodor can see the sky, and knows that the Djinn's Horn constellation will point him north toward the desert town Kaipo soon enough. It's a long walk - probably a week by foot - and will be hellish without provisions, but not impossible.He gets to his feet, and takes a moment to collect himself. He can feel under his robes that a short knife still rests safely in its sheath. If he tires too much to cast magic, it will be his only weapon. With it he can still hunt and feed himself, but the further he gets from Mist, the harder water will be to come by. 

Straightening, he glances around once more, glad that the world stays still this time. He scans the area for Kain once more, and upon seeing no dragoon, decides it will be best to press on and cover as much distance as he can before he becomes too tired to move.

He turns to leave, and sees the wild-haired girl at the corner of his eye. He looks away. He looks back again. He was sitting close enough to her to know that she has incredibly green hair, the likes of which he has never seen before. He could never have imagined that the people of Mist could be so strangely coloured - he had been expecting the weathered skin, darker than most who live in Baron, but not tresses that resemble a wind-torn bush better than a human head. Maybe it is the caller blood in her, connecting her to the fey world and its inhabitants. He looks away again, to where the valley opens up proper to the rest of the world, and takes a single step. Something makes him stop.

_Would you really go so far as to leave a second one to die?_

A muscle in his jaw tightens. He turns back to stare at the unconscious girl. She's the same as dead if he leaves her here, and he knows it. He could turn and walk away and leave her to her fate as he attempts to save himself and not think of her again. It wouldn't be difficult. He's done it before.

Why is it so hard to do now?

He sighs heavily, and picks his way back to her. She's light when he lifts her, and her head and arms loll about in ungainly positions, making it difficult to swing her onto his back and hold her there. It feels like she might fall, so he bends his knees and spends a little time arranging her arms about his neck and lashing her wrists together with the sash that previously held his coat shut. This way, she won't fall backwards, and he'll be less inclined to leave her there should it happen. It's uncomfortable, but not so much that the journey will be impossible, so he tries to support her legs as best he can and starts to walk.

She doesn't wake up, and the first night passes uneventfully. Maybe the sound of the land reforming terrified the area's monsters instead of attracting them to its source, but he walks for what feels like eternity without seeing anything move. He's half expects her all night to open her eyes and try and strangle him with his own clothing, but it never comes. After a while, he stops caring. The sun rises without the child moving, and he pushes himself until he becomes too warm under the sun's rays. Having kept close to the mountains, it isn't hard to find an overhanging slab of rock to function as a hiding spot. Praying no monster catches their scent and mauls them while they rest, he lets the girl down gently and lies down next to her. Sleep takes him almost straight away.

He wakes when the sun sets again, and is pleasantly surprised to find both himself and the girl in one piece, though she remains fast asleep. He arranges her on his back again and resumes the journey, making sure to keep following the Djinn's Horn. Over the next few days it gets hotter and hotter, even at night, and the hard earth beneath his feet gives way to softer, sandier soil. It isn't impossible to keep going, but resting during the days becomes harder. There's so little shade in the desert, and it's stiflingly warm all the time. He gets into the habit of keeping his coat off at night and covering up again during the day, and there are thankfully beasts aplenty the further they journey. Giant worms with no eyes yield little meat but plenty of untainted water, and there is enough flesh on each sahagin that tries to take them unawares to keep him going. He does his best to keep the girl nourished; though she doesn't swallow, he knows to trickle water slowly into her mouth and keep her head tilted back until it's gone down, though he passes on giving her meat, not knowing if she would be able to swallow it or not.

Enough time has passed when he reaches Kaipo that his skin doesn't feel like his own again. He's sure he stinks and looks haggard beyond belief judging by the looks people are giving him, but he is far past the point of caring. The inn is in the centre of town and he makes his way straight to it. He startles the innkeeper and earns himself an incredibly disapproving look, which quickly turns into one of concern. Theodor marches up to him, and the man is talking before he can explain himself.  
"-girl looks awfully pale! Take her through to the rooms... er, sir. I'll call for a healer, and you can both rest. Go, go!"

Theodor does as told, and lets himself into the main room. Six beds are made up and waiting to be slept in, and his eyes burn a little at the idea of a proper rest. He sets the girl down on a bed, tugs the sash off her wrists, and practically collapses onto the next bed along. He's never felt anything so good as a mattress before. It seems like barely a moment passes before a matronly lady with a rather thick middle is bustling into the room and fussing over the girl, shooting off question after question and not seeming to care that Theodor can't bring himself to answer a single one. He watches for a minute, and then shuts his eyes.

It's dark again when he wakes up, and blessedly silent. One of the far windows is letting in a sliver of moonlight that falls between his bed and the young girl's bed, casting enough light for him to see that her head is bandaged. It looks like her cheeks have regained some semblance of colour, but in the darkness he can't be sure. He lies still for a moment, marvelling at how relaxed his muscles are, before standing, stretching, and walking to the bathroom to relieve himself. He has every intention of returning to bed afterwards and sleeping for as many more hours as his body will let him. There's a window in the bathroom as well, and he stares up at the moon as he washed his hands. It's bright and comforting and seems like it's enforcing the silence that's taken the world.

When he leaves the room, there are other people crowded into it. They're next to the main door, the one that leads to the front counter, and they all wear the gold helms that are typical of Baron's standing army. One of them notices him.  
"We've found you, Lord Theodor!"  
He winces at the noise. It doesn't feel right to have the night disturbed so rudely. The girl in the bed stirs as the general of the troops continues to speak.  
"You have been charged with desertion! You will return with us to Baron at once."  
It doesn't seem right. Theodor is the farthest thing from a deserter, in his mind. "Who indicts me?" he asks, and is surprised at how hoarse he sounds. Perhaps he should have gotten a glass of water while he was out of the room.  
"That isn't your place to know," the general replies. "Should his majesty decide to absolve you, you will also be tried for aiding the escape of this child. She has all the colour of a demon from Mist, and the king has determined that the callers are to be eliminated, every one."

At that, Theodor looks over at the girl again, and sees that she is fully awake. She's still lying down, but her eyes glitter in what moonlight there is, and she's staring at the men. He looks at the small troop again and notes that they're carrying swords.  
"Come with us, and no one need be hurt," the general is saying, and Theodor thinks hard. He has two choices. He can go with these soldiers and be tried and executed for crimes that he has not committed, or he can escape them and be demonised truly by his home.  
"I think I'd rather not," he says, and the sound of swords being unsheathed quickly fills the room.

Considering how quickly both news and the Red Wings move, it's a miracle he has had time to rest at all. Thankfully he has had enough time to recover from any scrapes and scratches that he has incurred on the journey to Kaipo, and even half a night's rest is enough for him to regain enough energy to take down a handful of soldiers. The general raises his sword, probably to swing it downwards at him, and Theodor can't help but shake his head slightly. Raising one's sword in a confined space like this is never a good idea. He brings the idea of illness to the forefront of his mind and flicks his fingers in a very practised move, striking the general with poison. He staggers back, drops his sword, and bends over as though to vomit, and the three soldiers behind him dither and try to barge past to attack. The green-haired child slips out of bed and scampers to the back of the room, almost unnoticed by everyone in the room.

The battle is in Theodor's favour. With one hurt general and three confused soldiers - too inexpert for his mission, and from that he realises that Baron must have assumed he would be half-dead after the earthquake at Mist - he is able to dispatch them easily. Shedding further blood seems tasteless and unnecessary: too much in a week, he thinks, and refrains from scalding or freezing them. Instead he poisons three of them. The remaining man throws his sword down and his hands up before Theodor is able to cast anything his way. There's a silence. Theodor is waiting for an explanation and gets none: the soldier takes advantage of the situation to pull his comrades from the room, throwing terrified glances over his shoulder as he does so and leaving his weapon behind. Theodor kicks it under a bed to be a pleasant surprise for the innkeeper in the morning and waits. He's expecting them to heal themselves and run back into the room. It doesn't happen. There is silence, and eventually he deems it safe, taking a seat on his bed and taking the chance to peel the gloves from his hands.

The sound of footsteps approaches, and stops. He looks away from his clothing and sees the little girl staring at him, silent. Her expression is hard, but he is much too tired and experienced to be afraid of her.  
"Yes?" he prompts. She drops her gaze and shuffles her feet twice. After a moment, she mumbles something that he cannot hear, and he simple waits for her to repeat himself. Theodor is no good with children.  
"... I hate you," she repeats eventually, "But I'm sorry those men attacked you."  
He remains silent, waiting for her to go on. Even with her eyes cast down, she looks bursting to say so many things. He wouldn't be surprised were she to start crying again, or hitting him, but she restrains herself from doing either and eventually looks up again. She's set her jaw, and she's doing her best to look intimidating, or perhaps brave.  
"Why haven't you killed me?"

Theodor thinks of a few days past, when she was pale and silent and asleep at the base of a mountain she'd indirectly caused. He remembers thinking of letting her stay there to be eaten by monsters and worms, and he thinks that he could have done her a favour and stopped her breath there and then, too. _What a difficult question,_ he thinks, and remembers another cold, dark night when he left a child to die. _I am not so terrible that I could do that a second time._  
"I have no reason to kill you," he says instead. She stares him dead in the eye.  
"You said you should, though. Back in the village."

He has no answer to that, and he shrugs instead. This doesn't seem to mollify the girl at all, but he can think of no other response. Even if he could think of one, she would likely press him on it, and he has no desire to follow that particular train of thought at the moment. He has found out that children are annoyingly persistent.  
"What are you going to do?" He must look confused, because she presses on- "With me. Are you going to kill me?"  
He shakes his head. What _is_ he going to do? If the guards were telling the truth - and he has no reason to think otherwise - then he cannot return to Baron. He thinks that he should have demanded of them news of Kain. There is nowhere to go but onward. Nothing in Kaipo could keep him here, and there could be allies elsewhere. Even if he had wanted to return to Baron, the path is closed.

"Damcyan," he says out loud, and the idea isn't entirely preposterous. Provided he says nothing about Mist to the monarchy there, they might well listen to him and aid him. The girl jumps on the word like he's given her the answer to the universe.  
"Are you going there? Are you taking me?"

He stares at her and can't quite understand what she's saying. She hates him, he's indifferent to her, and yet she's speaking as though she expects him to take full responsibility for her.   
"I had no plans," he says honestly. "You are welcome to do as you please. Surely you can find someone here that will take you in."  
She chews her lip and looks down again. Her ferocity seems to have faded into uncertainty and when she talks again, she's much quieter. "If those men were telling the truth, I won't be able to do that. Someone will give me to your dumb king, or I'll be found out, anyhow. You should at least take responsibility for what you did and tell me how to be safe!"

She raises a good point. Theodor places his hands on the mattress and shifts his weight to his elbows as he stares at the ceiling. He feels older than he actually is. "We didn't mean for your mother to die, nor did we come with the intention of destroying your village," he says. "Whether or not you believe me is up to you. Once I am rested and prepared for more journeying, I intend to head north to Damcyan to treat with their king and queen. I am not made for rearing babes. I can give you a knife and tell you to use it to be safe, if you so wish. What do you want me to do? Nothing that has happened has been my intention, and I am as lumbered with the consequences as you are."

That keeps her silent for a moment or two. She mulls over his words and sticks her bottom lip out as she thinks.  
"Can I come with you?" she asks.  
"What makes you think you will be safe with me?"  
"Are you going to kill me?"  
"No."  
"Are you lying?"  
"No."  
"Then I'll be safe."

She says it so matter-of-factly that Theodor is actually amused. She's naïve, certainly, but doesn't seem like the kind of child that will blindly put their faith in the nearest person. She asks because she is lost otherwise, he thinks, and he _is_ responsible for her sudden homelessness.  
"Will you be able to walk to Damcyan?" he asks. She shrugs in answer, and he takes that to mean yes. "Will you be able to fight if needs be?" she shrugs again, but she nods as she does so. Theodor remembers the giant she summoned, and decides without a flicker of doubt that she will be just fine. "Very well," he concludes.  
"Then can I come with you?"  
"If you can keep up and look after yourself, yes."

She nods, and relaxes. It looks like some weight has been lifted from her shoulders, and he supposed it must have been - suddenly having no foreseeable future must be a big, terrifying thing. Theodor takes his weight off his wrists again and swings his legs back up onto the bed, fully ready to fall asleep once more. He shuts his eyes as his head settles on the pillow. Let the girl do what she wants.  
What she wants is apparently to keep talking. "Um," she says. Theodor grunts. "My name is Rydia."  
"... Theodor," he says, and yawns deep and long. It doesn't sound like she's moving at first, and he is of a mind to open his eyes and glare at her until she stops watching him until he hears the shift of fabric on his other side. It sounds like she's slipped back into her own bed.

"Good night," she says, and doesn't talk again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three-year long hiatus, YIKES. This chapter brought to you by a wonderful commenter who inspired me to finally finish up the draft for the third chapter I've had lying about for ages.  
> As an aside, the person I was collaborating with previously (who was helping me come up with the plot) and I have fallen out of contact, but never fear! I shall be recruiting the aid of other friends to help me plan, beta and more. Hopefully this means I'll be kicked into updating more often than, er, as long as it has been. Guilty.
> 
> That said, enjoy! From this chapter onwards there will be more and more canon plot divergence.

Theodor is woken by a sliver of sunlight that falls directly onto his face. Eyes still closed, he frowns and tries to ignore it, but to no avail. When he determines the light will continue to plague him until he gets up and moves, he does so reluctantly. It has been the best rest he's had for a long while; the last week has seen him sleeping on dirt and sand. The return to a mattress is most welcome.

The room is unfamiliar. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, and immediately he looks to the other beds in the chamber. They're all empty. He sits up slowly, rubbing sleep from the corners of his eyes, and wonders whether Baron claimed the girl in the night regardless of his efforts to protect her. He thinks they might have, until he remembers that they would have dragged him back a prisoner, or simply cut his throat as he slept. Bloodthirsty Baron could never let a deserter be.  
  
The innkeeper doesn't look up as he exits the room. "The girl is upstairs."  
The girl can only be one person. Theodor thanks the man before he takes the stairs, a comforting smell of bacon getting stronger with every step. It must be later than usual, or the inn is seeing little business: Rydia sits alone at a far table, and the lady behind the bar is busy with washing a great cast-iron pan. They're the only two people on this floor.  
  
The caller girl is eating in a manner that makes Theodor think of a wild animal. Her cheeks bulge from the bread she's stuffed into her mouth, and she waves at Theodor without any thought given to manners. Both elbows are on the table, and her feet swing to and fro violently, a good few inches from the ground. Theodor feels his own mouth tighten into a disapproving line as he approaches and takes the stool opposite. Her manner is worse than Baron's greenest squire.  
  
Rydia tries to speak, but her mouth is too full. Whatever she says comes out muffled, and a piece of chewed breakfast falls to the plate.  
"Don't speak with your mouth full," he scolds. She scowls, but does as she's told, rushing to chew and swallow. Once she's able, she's pursing her lips defiantly, staring up with big green eyes. He's done this before: he stares back, saying nothing, not even bothering to fold his arms, and it doesn't take long before her eyes start to water. She holds out for a moment longer before blinking, and takes the opportunity to shove more bread into her mouth.  
  
"When are we leaving?" she asks around the slice. The urge to tell her off again rises sharply in Theodor's gut, and he forces it to the back of his mind. No point in trying to tame the child; she is not his. As he is trying to think of a response - he agreed to take her under wing, there is no point trying to leave her now - the cook bustles over, smiling broadly.  
"Anything else for you, my dear?"  
"No thank you," Rydia says, the most polite she has been so far. The cook turns her smile upon Theodor, looking much more expectant than caring.  
"Payment goes to the desk downstairs," she tells him, and then she's marching away, Rydia's still-full plate untouched. Theodor places one elbow on the table and his face into his hand.  
"Well?" the girl asks again, impatient. "When are we going? I got you some too," she adds, and shoves the plate his way. It's better than nothing, though the remaining bread is swimming in bacon grease and looks less than appetising.  
  
"Soon," he says, and starts to eat. Rydia stays silent, lets him think about the upcoming journey. They have a whole desert to cross again, and there is only so far the child will be able to walk in a single day, and the heat of this place will be unbearable once the sun is at its highest-  
But none of this seems to occur to the girl across from him. Despite only having her would-be murderer for company, she seems in a surprisingly good mood, still swinging her legs, quite able to ignore him as he is her. Her face betrays nothing of her thoughts. Theodor is thankful for that: he will make sure the girl does not die, but he cares nothing for his charge's regards.  
  
There's not enough food to last very long, and soon enough the plate is picked clean. "We leave now," he says, and stands suddenly. Rydia hops down from the stool, and not for the first time, he is taken by how small she is. She's less than half his height and yet powerful enough to summon eidolons strong enough to rent the earth in two. He wants to ask whether she's able to call again, wants to know if fury fuels incredible magic, but thinks that Mist is perhaps not the best topic of conversation. He keeps his mouth shut, tosses a gold coin to the front desk as they leave.  
  
It's already too bright, too warm outside, and Theodor is sick of the heat after so long trudging through the desert. He's been cataloguing what they need: potions, first and foremost, and something to keep the sun off his face now that his hat is gone. So lost in his thoughts, he misses Rydia skipping ahead, stopping at the steam that bisects the oasis town, and twirling.  
"What are you thinking about?" she calls to him. He pulls his money pouch from his robes again, pokes about inside.  
"We stop at the apocathary first," he says. "As many potions and water pouches as we can carry. Perhaps a hat."  
"A hat?"  
"Better than no protection whatsoever. If I have enough, I might afford one that has magical protection."  
"Can I have a hat?"  
  
He almost tells her no without thinking about it, but he takes a moment to glance at her. She looks deadly serious, and he changes his mind immediately. Whatever the girl wants, she shall have. He will not risk another Mist.  
"... Why not," he allows, and is rewarded with a bright smile. "Tell me what you can do." He's caught up with her now and kept walking as he'd talked, and now she has to jog to keep up with him. She sounds breathless when she talks.  
"Magic. Mom was teaching me magic. All kinds, I can heal scratches now and freeze little things. And I'm not great at it, but I can call things, too."  
  
Theodor bites his tongue rather than risk a scathing comment that would have been acceptable - encouraged, even - in Baron. "I cast, too," he says instead. "I will keep teaching you as we travel."  
They're at the store, and he pushes the door open, letting her go first. No one stands behind the counter, and Rydia makes her way straight for the assortment of leather hats on display. She looks like she's about to grab one off its stand when a man appears.  
"Here, what's this?"  
  
The girl's fingers stop mid-grab, guilty as only a child can be. The shopkeep grins down at her from across the store. "Take one," he says. "I didnae mean to scare you." When she doesn't move, he leaves his position to snag one from its rest, and tugs one of her many wild locks. "Flat your hair and we'll get this on ye," he says, and turns his attention to Theodor as she starts trying to braid her hair back. "After the mad old sage?"  
"Sage?"  
  
Theodor peruses other items as the man explains, keeping only half an ear open. He's too busy thinking about how long it will take them to get to Damcyan, and how insufferable the heat is going to be getting there, and how he has to look after a child now, that he misses most of the explanation. There's a pregnant silence as he realises this, and the man is staring at him as though waiting for an answer.  
"Oh, I see," he says, although he doesn't. He doesn't miss the way the armourer rolls his eyes.  
"Sage Tellah," he repeats. "His daughter ran off north with a wandering bard a couple weeks back. Tellah himself went after them only three days ago; he figured Anna wasn't going to return like he first thought she would. Can you believe it! A girl of her status, just up and running away..."  
  
The name is familiar to the warlock, as it should be. There have been men and women of great power in every country over centuries; Baron has trained its citizens in their identities so that they might not be outdone in history lessons. The great sage of Kaipo has been talked about for decades. Theodor remembers learning about him when he first started learning magic, and his stories are still being taught to apprentices today. The man must now be ancient, though no less headstrong if he is crossing the desert alone.  
  
"Who's Anna?"  
That, from Rydia, who has almost mastered her hair. The armourer turns his attention to the girl, helping her wind the braids in such a way that a leather cap would slip over them without troubles, and talks to her about Tellah's young daughter while he does so. Theodor keeps shopping throughout, searching for something for himself and succeeding. Its brim is low and wide, meant to shield a face from the sun, though it is just as garish yellow as his uniform hat.  
"This," he announces as he takes it from the stand. The salesman, having been successful in tying the cap onto Rydia's head, nods.  
"Nothing else?"  
Theodor can feel the sharp gaze of Rydia boring a hole into his head. It takes a lot of willpower to keep looking only at the man. "And the cap for the girl."  
  
The hats take most of his coin, but though he wouldn't admit it, the price is worth it for Rydia's happy smile. She positively skips out of the door and Theodor follows after asking directions for the general store. He's informed that he's a day late for the market, but that suits him fine enough. Towering over the majority of people, he sticks out like a broken limb, and if Baron is coming after him... Besides, he has never wanted to be stuck amongst a throng of people looking at everything and nothing.  
  
He tells Rydia to stay close, annoyed that she keeps trying to investigate things that have no relation to them.  
"I'm not going to lose you," she complains, but stops running ahead all the same. She doesn't try to reach up for his hand, like he's afraid she might, but his scoldings don't stop her from staring around the town wildly. One glance down at her tells him the cap was a good purchase. She's just another child now, harder to spot without the mass of wild green hair.  
"What's that?" she asks, and points to the bare bones of a stall, off against the side of someone's store.  
"The market was yeseterday," Theodor explains. "In a town this small, 'tis likely a weely thing. They won't bother breaking the stalls down every week. Too much effort when they are in such constant use."  
"Yesterday?"  
  
She looks like she might be sulking, but there's nothing either of them can do about the passage of time. Still, the power of her frown is strong enough that something in him relents. He refuses to acknowledge it whatsoever.  
"There will be other markets," he says, and that seems to lighten her mood a little. "We will be travelling to Damcyan," he adds, and points to the very distant mountain range. Rydia tries to follow his finger, craning her neck. "Merchants often travel to the castle to trade; likely we'll see their carts there."  
"I've seen merchant carts before," Rydia scoffs, and kicks the ground. "Men came from Damcyan all the way down through the mountains to trade with us."  
"You've never seen merchant carts the way they present to the king and queen of Damcyan," Theodor tells her. "The crown made the golden gil three hundred years ago, and traders have not yet forgotten that fact. The same carts that traded to you will dress up with silks and pomp the like you've never seen before."  
  
The child's eyes have gone wide again, the sulk completely dissipated. Theodor might not be good with children, but history books have been his friends for years, and as a tutor to other mages, he's had to learn how to get good at explaining things. They keep walking, and he finds himself assaulted by questions as they pass the rest of the bare stalls, doing his best to answer them. How does he know what the merchant carts look like? Who came up with the golden gil? Has he travelled often to Damcyan? All this and more keep him occupied. Rydia only quiets when he tells her he needs to buy water for their journey, and even then she starts up again immediately after his purchase.  
  
At the edge of Kaipo, they stop to take in what lies ahead: an endless sea of shifting gold grains and dry heat. Reluctantly, Theodor places his new hat upon his head, hating the extra height it grants him but knowing it's a better alternative to sunburn. His skin might be darker than that of a Baron native, but not enough that he doesn't crisp in summer. Rydia's face, he observes, is weathered enough that freckles dot the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. She likely has less to worry about than he does, spending her life outside as she must have done - but then, Mist's valley has been long obscured by its namesake. She may not be ready for the desert, after all.  
  
Theodor, so wrapped up in his thoughts, feels something touch his hand, and jerks in surprise. It's Rydia, reaching up, who now shrinks back at his reaction.  
"Are you okay?" she asks, like the person she questions isn't many years her senior in every sense in the word, like the person she questions didn't help to massacre her friends and family. Regret has never tasted so strong and bitter.  
"I ought to ask you that," he says, and opens his hand to her. She takes it, hand dwarfed by his palm alone. "You ought to still be resting."  
"I don't like the heat," she says simply, and starts forward. Theodor lets himself be led until their joined hands start to sweat, and even then places one hand on the back of her head to guide her.  
  
They make their way to the mountains slowly, but not silently. Despite the pace he sets, Rydia still questions him about any and everything until her throat parches bone-dry; she gulps greedily at the water he offers her and decides talking can be saved until the evening. The sun is relentless, different to how it felt in Kaipo, already a haze behind them. The oasis there made the air sticky, but the further they walk, the drier the air becomes. The mountains remain as far off as they were at the beginning of their trek, but mercifully, Rydia doesn't complain once.  
When they come across eyeless sandworms, they work together, calling lightning from the sky to dance across the sand into the beasts. Theodor finds that cutting into them to get to their stores of water is neither as messy nor as hard as he thought it would be. They drink gratefully, because fighting the worms is exhausting in the heat, and Theodor refills their skins as when it's needed.  
  
When night falls, they keep walking. The desert is full of tiny, biting insects that didn't make themselves known during the day, and Theodor feels sorry for his charge's bare legs. He conjures heatless flame to light the way and tethers the spell to the point of his hat; when they finally stop to camp, Rydia points and laughs. Moths and the biting insects alike have been attracted by the light, and refuse to go away, even with his swatting at them. While Theodor lays his ill-fitting jerkin upon the sand for the girl, she's busy wrenching her leather cap from her skull, fingers delving into the sweaty mass of hair upon her head. She pulls out a pin, kicks her shoes off, and immediately sets to work piercing the blisters that have formed on her feet. Not once does she complain. Theodor feels something akin to pride bloom in his chest, and promptly ignores it, rolling onto his side and falling asleep.  
  
They walk and walk and follow the same routine for three days, the mountain range getting closer and closer as they travel. Time and again he is surprised at how much power crackles beneath her skin. Though her magic is much weaker than his, she draws on her power again and again, far more fluently than he can cast. They very quickly fall into sync. He destroys on a grand scale and she echoes him as best she can, keeping pace and time as though it's nothing. Once he thinks of the children that run about Baron castle - there aren't many of them with parents that would let them be so unruly, but those that do, do so for _hours_. The boundless energy of children both disgusts and amazes him.  
  
They end up only speaking at night, and even though the trust she shows him is incredible, she refuses to speak of anything of import. Occasionally Theodor will notice her from the corner of his eye, staring at him, face like thunder. It's clear that the time spent not talking is time spent instead thinking, and she thinks only of Mist.  
What she speaks of: her favourite colour, how she enjoys watching the stars, that the world is much vaster than she could ever dream of. It doesn't take long for her to get sick of the sand, but that doesn't stop her from marvelling at it - how hot it becomes, at its rich colour. Once she learns every grain is whittled-down rocks, her eyes get so large Theodor worries they might pop out of her skull.  
  
Despite the way she goes on about the desert, she cheers out loud when she sees grass and mud, the beginning of the very bottom of the mountains. The change of scenery is enough to lift even Theodor's heart; too long has he been travelling, and he is very weary of the heat.  
  
Of course, just making it this far does not mean they have made it to Damcyan: the way is long enough yet that it will be another two days at the very least, and only then if they keep up their pace, which neither of them are interested in doing.  
"We'll make camp," Theodor announces, and Rydia nods grimly. They keep at it for a little longer, until the mountains are close enough almost to touch. It's Rydia that calls for camp, and she calls for it in the way that only children are good at. She throws herself down on the ground and makes a long, broken sound.  
"I can't go on," she declares. There's no point fighting it.  
  
That night, Theodor responds to her chatter. She's so tired that conversation doesn't come to her as easy it as has done; instead she lies, an exhausted, broken thing, sounding faraway and miserable every time she responds to his gentle questions. Once she's asleep - and that doesn't take long - he decides that his uniform can hang. He pulls a silken cravat from the pocket of his jerkin, wets it, and places it on the girl's forehead. She looks so very small.  


* * *

  
Theodor is woken by an inorganic noise that puts him on alert immediately. At some point in the night his hat has been blown from his head, and he has to scramble on hands and knees to retrieve it before the wind can spirit it away. He crumples the point down until the entire thing can be flattened into his pocket; it's too bright to be kept in the open.  
"Rydia," he growls, and the girl wakes immediately. "Stay quiet and stay low." She does so, and at Theodor's quick handsigns, covers her hair with her hands.  
"What is it?" she whispers, and gets no answer except for that distant, worrisome buzzing.  
  
Minutes pass, and keep passing, until both man and girl are starting to cramp up from the awkward positions they're holding. Slowly, cautiously, Theodor raises himself to a kneel, and scans the horizon.  
"Look there," he says, head turned to the east. Rydia follows his gaze and squints, the sun in her eyes. She shakes her head.  
"I don't see anything."  
"There," Theodor repeats, and extends one great hand to point. There, steadily approaching, is something that looks decidedly inhuman, though it is no beast, either, and it is definitely producing the buzzing that is getting louder and louder with every passing moment.  
"... What is it?" the girl asks, and raises a hand to shadow her eyes. "That's not a monster, is it?"  
"I don't think so. Be quiet, let it get closer."  
  
They wait, both fully awake now, and Theodor starts breathing slowly, the better to cast. The... thing gets closer, and becomes even more confusing as it does. It looks almost like a boat, but it rests a good distance from the ground, like an airship.  
"What IS it?" Rydia asks again, and Theodor doesn't have an answer for her. It's not a monster, at the very least. That's good enough for him. He gets to his feet, waves his arms above his head. "What are you doing?"  
"It looks as though men have made it. Men should pilot it. We'll find out once it gets here."  
  
They do find out: the flying thing turns to them and makes its stately way toward them. Rydia scrambles to her feet and takes up a cowering position behind Theodor's legs. He looks down at her; she looks back up.  
"Stand tall and strong," he instructs, and guides her to stand next to him with a hand on her shoulder. "Never let others see your fear. They will take advantage of it."  
"But I don't want them to come here," Rydia says. Theodor keeps his hand where it rests, keeping her from fleeing. "I really, really don't."  
  
The two stand together until the flying boat pulls to a halt yards away; the whirring it produces is deafening this close. As the contraption's engine comes to a standstill, it stops flying and falls to the ground. It is entirely ungraceful. There are three riders within, and one of them leaps out the moment they're ground-based once more. They are slim, not so tall, and wearing goggles the like Theodor has only ever seen on master Pollendina. At Theodor's side, Rydia tenses; he can hear her breathing rapidly, and he squeezes her shoulder gently.  
"Calm," he murmurs. She takes a deep, shuddering breath instead of short panicked ones, and the sound is gratifying. "Calm."  
  
The flying boat's rider has reached them, and now tears their goggles from their head.  
"I never," they're saying, panting from the sudden exertion, "thought I'd find you. Thank all that is holy, Theodor, you're safe, you're _alive_..."  
Theodor finds himself wrapped in a sudden, fierce hug. "Miss Rosa," he says, as shocked as she. He's too stunned to respond to the embrace.  
  
Rosa pulls back to look at him, and there is nothing but anger in her eyes. "You," she starts, and she is holding onto Theodor's forearms with a grip that reminds him that yes, she is an archer as well as a mage. "You didn't even TRY to make it back to Baron. We thought you were dead, we  _worried, I_ worried!"  
"There was a child," Theodor says, helpless in the face of female rage. He is shoved aside (genuinely shoved; this woman is stronger than she looks) so she can search for the culprit, and the moment her eyes land on Rydia her entire self softens.  
"A child," she repeats, and bends her knees, arms out and open to the girl. "Come here, sweet thing."  
  
Whatever Rydia sees in Rosa is far less fearsome than Theodor has; she launches herself right into the mage's arms and allows herself to be pulled in tight, lifted high. Her legs wrap about Rosa's waist, her face buried in her neck, and the two cling to each other like a lifeline.  
"Terrifying, is she not?"  
That from another rider, who stands a wise few paces from Rosa. They're smiling at the display and looks totally at odds with the desert. Remembering his manners, Theodor offers a bow.  
"Well met, my-" and he pauses for a moment, gives the stranger a once-over and carefully considers, "lord."  
"And to you, sire! I trust you know the headstrong young lady?"  
Rosa is still occupied with holding the girl tightly, leaving Theodor to introduce himself. "I do," he cedes. "Lady Rosa is an associate of mine. We have worked together before."  
"Pulled along for the ride, no doubt!" the man laughs, holds his arm out for the third and final rider. "Let me introduce myself. I am Edward, a bard. My wife, Anna," and the lady that takes his arm smiles at him. "We hail from the camps outside Damcyan and encountered your friend as we wandered. She came on a diplomatic mission!"  
  
This has Theodor shoot Rosa a disbelieving glance, which she seems to feel. She lifts her head from Rydia's neck and looks back at him, saying nothing, expression carefully blank. Theodor has seen such expressions before on the faces of his students, when they wish to keep important secrets from him.  
"I see," he says, and neither his nor Rosa's gaze wavers once. "To where were you all travelling?"


	4. Chapter 4

The hovercraft takes them back to Kaipo in less than half the time it took Theodor and Rydia to walk the same distance. Annoyingly, the two that have travelled the furthest have no say in their destination, though Theodor does at least attempt to protest. Rosa, cradling little Rydia the entire way, shoots him a look that is meant to cow him. It works. Theodor keeps his mouth closed and speaks only when spoken to from then on.  
  
Travelling by hovercraft is unlike travelling by boat or airship. The craft bounces around and throws sand everywhere. Theodor quickly learns that covering his nose and mouth will save him a lot of discomfort; the craft has enough goggles for everyone aboard, and he pulls his cravat about his face. Rosa has something similar tied about her mouth and wraps her cloak about the girl sitting between her legs.  
"It's faille," she yells into the wind so the girl can hear her. "Thin enough not to smother, thick enough to keep the sand out of your eyes. Stay beneath it!"  
  
There is no conversation while the craft travels. Between the wind and the drone of its engine, it is far too noisy to make out words. When the sun disappears beneath the horizon, the light rapidly drains from the world, and Edward kills the machine quick enough. Theodor looks back toward the mountains longingly.  
"No point in pushing her through the night," he says, removing his mask and goggles. He pats the wheel of the machine fondly, like Cid does with his creations. "Wouldn't want to drive straight into a crowd of sahagin unawares. The blighters are testy at the best of times."  
  
Edward's sliding out of the craft to stretch, and Anna follows suit, obviously glad for the rest. Her shoulder pops, and she winces, the sound carrying. Rosa spares her a glance - she's rolling the arm, stretching every muscle now, no need for concern - before she looks around at the scenery, obviously worried.  
"What of insects? Goblins? The desert is rife with hostiles, and this machine's engine is loud."  
Theodor decides to stretch also, and easily clambers out of the hovercraft. His feet have never been more glad to be on solid ground; he decides then and there that he hates any method of travel that cannot decide whether it belongs to the air or the earth. He's about to suggest setting up a barrier, pooling their magics together, but Anna has a solution already to hand.  
"We've flown in the craft before. Things tend to stay away, frightened by the noise. You only need to worry for the worms, but they've no eyes, Rosa. Stay still and silent and they won't sense you; they'll go on their way soon enough."  
This doesn't seem to comfort Rosa any. It doesn't do anything for Theodor either, who is too mindful of their great rolling bodies to feel safe being still underneath them.  
"What if that doesn't work?" Rosa asks. She's back to scanning the landscape around them as though fearful a worm will stick its head up from the sand there and then.  
"Worst comes to worst, we've a crossbow under the seats," Anna says matter-of-factly. "Take aim for its mouth and shoot iron right through its skull. That'll take care of the issue."  
  
While Rosa scrambles to find the weapon, clearly not mollified in the slightest, Edward chuckles. "Nothing like pleasantries and boring chitchat to ready oneself for sleep, no?" he slaps Anna lightly on the shoulder, and she grins at him. She's showing far too many teeth to be considered ladylike. Theodor has seen that look on women's faces before and all at once feels vulnerable sharing the desert with three girls that could likely rip him apart with little trouble. Pleasant, indeed.  
  
It is nice, at least, not to be responsible for another this night. Theodor is able to settle himself comfortable upon the sand without concern for Rydia, who is still safe in Rosa's arms, still aboard the hovercraft. Edward and Anna set themselves a little way from the others, far enough that they can whisper to each other and the sound will not carry. The stars are out in full force, though the moon is new, and the world is entirely dark all too quickly. Above them hangs the Justiciar, the peridot of his staff the brightest star in the sky. Theodor follows the line of the constellation to the tip of the Djinn's Horn and squints until he can imagine the outline of the roaring beast.

"Theodor?"  
It's Rosa. She speaks so softly her voice might as well be the soft wind, hoping not to be heard. Theodor grunts.  
"We must talk. As soon as possible. Away from them," she adds, and Theodor knows she means their married entourage. "But not now."  
"Not now," Theodor agrees. Not with Rydia so close to them, no matter how deeply asleep the child might be. "You, a diplomat?"  
He can hear the faint smile in her voice. It always surfaces when she's proud of herself. "One of many. The king had plans to send them to Damcyan - I simply left before they did. I've no magic. I'm no noble's daughter. I would never _dream_ of joining the army."  
"Nor head one of its main corps, presumably," Theodor says dryly.  
"Hush," Rosa says, but she's clearly holding back a laugh. "Do I look like I could head anything in the military?"  
"No," Theodor answers honestly. "You don't. That doesn't mean I haven't seen you shoot a bullseye from fifty paces."  
  
She basks in the compliment for a while, and Theodor goes back to following the stars. From the Peridot to the Horn to the spear of the Eldest Sister his eyes travel and he thinks of the legends behind each one. Reading the heavens had never interested him, but it is a comforting thought out here, surrounded by people and yet alone as can be.  
"You shouldn't mention the army either," Rosa says after a while. Mind still on the stars, Theodor makes a questioning noise in lieu of words. "It would be wise to keep such information to yourself." She pauses again. "Especially after Mysidia. _Especially_ after Mist."  
  
It feels as though someone has dropped ice into his stomach. The stars twinkle above, oblivious to his discomfort, and he pushes himself up. Even in the dark he can see Rosa watching him from the comfort of the hovercraft. The small bundle that is Rydia rests within her arms, silent and unmoving and the source of Theodor's guilt.  
"I," he tries to say, but his mouth has gone dry, and it comes out as a croak instead. He looks between Rosa's accusatory gaze to Rydia's immobile form. She shouldn't know. She can't know. "How," he manages.  
"Kain," Rosa says simply. "He was found a day from the castle, half-dead. I healed him. I made him tell me what happened. I left the castle that night. Damcyan cannot go the same way."  
"You- left," says Theodor, who despite holding Rosa in great esteem, still cannot quite wrap his head around a young lady up and finding her own way in the world. "I presume Kain knows?"  
"Perish the thought," Rosa snorts. "He'd have crawled, still bleeding, to stop me leaving if he knew."  
"What will he tell the king?"  
  
Rosa tips her own head back to stare at the sky as she ponders this question. From within her arms, Rydia mutters something and throws one arm out as she tries to roll over in her sleep. She stares and stares and Theodor thinks she might not ever answer. As he sinks to the sand once more, ready to sleep, ready to forget this night and this conversation, she comes across her answer.  
  
"Hang the king," she whispers to the night air. Theodor falls asleep with a bad feeling brewing in his gut.

* * *

 To his surprise, Theodor actually sleeps through the night without waking once. He's sticky when he wakes, but so is everyone else, and the air will be cool once they start the hovercraft's engine once more. Glances at his companions tell him clearer than words that only Rydia slept as soundly as he. Rosa looks as though she's spent all night staring out at the desert, and from the way Anna and Edward rise sluggishly, they too kept awake worrying about the heat and the worms.  
  
Rydia, full of energy, is at the helm of the craft, pretending to be flying it. She's not making noise as most children are wont to, but she's twisting the steering mechanism like she's trying to fly the Red Wings through a thick fleet of ahrimans.  
  
"Good morning," Rosa says as Theodor pushes himself up. He doesn't need to ask for water; she's already handing him a flask, and he accepts it gratefully. The water feels like cure spreading through his body, but Rosa grabs the flask from him before he can finish it. He must look like a kicked child from the look she gives him - fond, but weary. "Any more and you'll vomit," she says, and though Theodor's entire body is screaming for more water, he knows to trust in her advice.  
  
She offers the same flask to Anna and Edward as they approach. Anna reaches for it first, and her husband looks over to the helm of the craft.  
"Having fun?" Edward asks Rydia, who doesn't shrink away from the question. She grins and releases the mechanism. "No, keep at it," he says, and steps into the craft to sit next to her. He places her hands gently back atop the steering stick. "We need a good pilot to take us back to Kaipo, and I can think of no one better!"  
  
Anna slips into the craft and watches her husband with a smile, recorking the flask. Theodor, too bulky to enter as gracefully as everyone else, stands just outside, one hand resting on the hot side. He can feel the metal through the leather of his gloves and keeps his hand there. It doesn't burn as hot as fira.  
"So, Theodor," Anna says nonchalently. She's still watching Edward as he brushes hair out of Rydia's face, fond as any newlywed. "You also hail from Baron?"  
"I do," Theodor says. Beside him, Rosa stretches her legs out and reaches for her flask again, which Anna relinquishes easily. "I research magical theory."  
"Truly?" Anna turns, interested. "Anything I might have heard of?"  
Theodor glances at Rosa, who nods minutely and pushes to her knees. She's in full caring-mode, trying to keep everyone in good health, persuading Edward to drink and Rydia to keep the sun off her neck.  
"That depends," he says, "Have you heard of the possibility of new branches of magic being introduced under different names?"  
"You're talking about green magic and geomancy, yes?"  
  
This has Theodor gawp, which only makes Anna laugh brightly. The sound prompts a smile from Edward, who looks much as an enamoured pet would. "My father studies magic of all sorts," she explains patiently, and takes the flask back from her husband. She sips from it once and recorks it before she hands it back to Rosa, who tucks it away in a pouch safely. "He used to write papers of his own until he retired. Now he keeps up with it for fun.  _I_ keep up with it so I've something to surprise strangers with."  
She winks at that. Theodor is saved from having his shock laughed at by Rydia scrambling into the circle they've created. "You can _read_ magic?" she asks. "But that sounds so _boring_."  
"There is much to be learnt from books," Rosa says patiently. "Much more than can be learned by oneself."  
" _I_ never read any books and I can still cast spells," Rydia says, although the crease forming between her brows suggests she might not be able to read. Theodor resolves not to show her the tomes resting beneath Baron lest he scare her off her natural craft. "And I'm good at it, too."  
"You are," Rosa agrees, "But you could get better, too! Do not give up on books so quickly, sweet thing. Anna," she adds, and looks so much more businesslike, "Perhaps you could explain to me why they're considering splintering the school of black magic while we travel? Theodor has tried to explain, but gets _far_ too wordy about the matter."  
  
They are, after all, sitting in the middle of the desert with the sun bearing down upon them. Edward digs in the hidden chest until he comes across more pairs of eye-goggles and hands them to his newest guests. Rosa draws the child beneath her robe again and sets the goggles upon her face firmly. As the craft's engine roars to life once more, she leans toward Anna so she can have her explanation yelled to her. Following as best he can, Theodor is surprised at her understanding of the topic: it's controversial at best, and has introduced no end of complaints from black mages the world over annoyed that only their school might be split into three. _The whole purpose of black magic,_ they argue, _is to enfeeble and ail the enemy. Why bother creating a new name for the same school?_ Theodor agrees more with this train of thought than the ones who welcome the change. _There are enough kinds of black magic that at least two schools would be easier to command upon a battlefield,* they say, *easier to teach, too, and better to keep young apprentices from the worst of the ailing magics until they learn their theory._  
Theodor knows Rosa's stance before she even opens her mouth. They have talked of magical theory before, and the differences between their schools, and come away with a healthy respect of one another.  
"Surely it would be better for elemental magic to be taught first?" she yells predictably. Theodor opens his mouth to remind her that apprentices are in fact taught only simple elemental spells before any other genre already, but remembers that he is pretending to be someone he's not almost not quick enough.  
  
Anna seems to share his thoughts, at least. "No apprentice starts out learning _stop_ , the same way no one learns  _libra_ before _cure_ ," she yells back. "Naturally, simple spells would be taught before anything else, no matter the school they choose."  
Therein lies Theodor's biggest gripe with the idea. "If they are to be taught the basics first, surely all mages should learn the same spells at the same pace?"  
"Do you have selective interests or a broader concern for the arts, sir?" Anna's shaking her head like she's had this argument a thousand thousand times before. For all Theodor knows, she might well have. "Any mage can master a single spell, given that they keep at it and only that for years. Sages aren't so easily come by."  
  
She has a point, but that doesn't stop Theodor from being unhappy about the arrangement. The idea of coming across a mage on the battlefield that knows more than he does in a particular school does nothing to warm his heart - but then, do his services even truly belong to Baron anymore? Here he travels with a girl he failed to kill and a deserter. The world has gone mad.  
  
Rosa and Anna continue to discuss the merits of magical schools as the desert falls away around them. Endless sand is replaced with yet more sand. The only indication that they aren't stuck in the desert is the mountains in the distance, towering tall as they ever do. Theodor looks toward them with only a small amount of regret. Here he is, speeding back to Kaipo as though Baron might not still be looking for him or the girl settled in Rosa's lap.  
  
The sun is almost at its highest when Kaipo becomes visible again. They've passed Rosa's skin around and have no more water, so the sight is enough to cheer them all to talking once more.  
"What business did you have at Kaipo?" Anna is asked, and she smiles.  
"My father lives here," she says. "I wished to reassure him of my wellbeing. What of you?"  
"I have none," Rosa says easily. "You will be returning to Damcyan soon, yes? I still need to speak with their majesties."  
"We'll leave before sundown," Anna promises. "I only wish to check on my father, not to stay with him. Besides," she adds, and tilts her head toward Edward, still diligently steering them to safety, "We must needs return before the morrow, too. You aren't the only one who has business with the king and queen. We'll travel through the night, most like."  
  
From then it takes less than an hour before they pull up to Kaipo's walls. As before, the sight of greenery in the middle of the desert is a welcome sight. Theodor could swear he can smell the water that flows fresh in the wells. There's no way for the hovercraft to enter the town, so they all disembark with the exception of Edward.  
"I'll join you as soon as I find the shaded wall," he calls over the drone of the engine. "So it doesn't overheat. At the inn!"  
The craft kicks up a spray of sand as it's maneouvered away, and the group of would-be travellers enter the town as one. Anna leads them, shading her eyes with a hand.  
  
It was busier when Theodor was last here. With the sun so high, the heat is nigh unbearable. Children at court are taught that those in the desert sleep during the day, the better to function at dawn and dusk. Anna confirms this with a sniff and barely a glance around. "The inn will be the only store open," she announces. "Work will start later for everyone else. Come," she says, and takes off confidently. Theodor had been too tired and water-starved to pay attention to his surroundings the first time, but the inn is obviously the largest building in town. It doesn't so much as tower as loom, small as it is, and the door is closed.  
  
Anna doesn't let the closed door deter her. She pushes it open and leans her entire body into the building as she calls a convivial, "Hello, the house!" She listens for a moment before turning to the rest of her party. "Come in," she says, and doesn't wait for them to follow her.  
Theodor heads the back, and still has to bow his head to make it through the doorway. Anna is leaning on the counter chatting with the proprieters, looking completely at home. The lady she's speaking to does a double take when she realises the tall man is Theodor.  
"You!"  
"Oh, you know him?" Anna says with barely a glance over her shoulder. "A friend of mine. Distinctive, isn't he?"  
"That he is," the innkeeper says, who no doubt recognises him. Theodor knows by the way she's sizing him up that her husband told her about the soldiers' bodies he left behind. "You're still travelling with that girl?"  
  
She hasn't seen Rydia, then. Little wonder: her hair has been braided tightly down. Green it might still be, but not as distinctive now it's been tamed somewhat. She seems to realise she's been talked about. "Hello!"  
The innkeeper softens the moment her eyes fall on the girl. "Good," she says to herself, almost, and then bustles around the counter so she can make sure it really is the same child. She's on her knees in a moment, smoothing down errant strands of hair, and Anna takes this moment to straighten.  
"I'm going home," she announces. "If you don't mind, stay here until I return. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. Lottie," and this she aims at the lady fussing over Rydia, "Be a dear and keep them out of trouble?"  
"Of course," Lottie says with a smile.  
  
With that, Anna leaves the room. Theodor has to take a step aside for her to pass, as he blocks the door with his mass, and because it is rude to obstruct a lady. She barely looks at him as she goes, and the moment the door closes behind her Lottie rises once more. She's smaller even than Rosa and no threat at all, but the ferocity in her expression is something to behold.  
"If you've come here to start trouble again," she begins, and Theodor has to hold his hands up, palms open.  
"No," he says, deep and rumbling, "I never intended for trouble to find its way here in the first place. I deeply apologise."  
  
The innkeeper looks less than impressed. "Bodies for us to clean up, and the little girl's not got your colouring. What are you, a kidnapper? A murderer? Both?"  
Theodor can't block the accusations; they slide past his hands, trying to ward them off, and strike true. "Mistakes have been made," he starts, or tries to start, for Lottie takes a step forward.  
" _Mistakes_?" and the very word is like a strike to the face. Too tall to stand straight under this roof, a well-respected mage, and yet Theodor cowers in the face of a woman he does not know. "Dead men are more'n mistakes, lad, and-"  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Lottie's tirade is cut off by Rosa's gentle voice. She looks perfectly at ease even when the innkeeper's angry gaze slides over her and goes so far as to smile as though all is at rights. "My friend would never kill a man unprovoked," she explains, and then she's pulling something out of a pouch at her hip. A coin bag, judging by the way it jingles. "Even if he were to commit such a heinous crime - and he is _such_ a gentle man," she adds, "Even if he did - I am _sure_ there's nothing we can't put behind us."  
  
Rydia's glancing up between all three of them, watching everything unfold silently. Rosa still smiles and holds the money bag out to the angry innkeeper, who takes it, tugs it open, glances inside. Whatever she sees takes some of the wind from her sails: her shoulders sag, no longer tight with frustration.  
"Was there anything else we needed to discuss?" Rosa asks, quiet but firm. It's the same voice she uses with her students when they disbehave. It works every time.  
"No," Lottie says, and tucks the purse into her bosom. "Not if you know miss Anna. Go on upstairs; my man will feed you if you want it." Behind Theodor, the door swings open again, and in walks Edward, sun-kissed despite the brim of his hat and smiling as though the desert weren't hellish. Lottie's eyes narrow as she sees him. "You're in trouble."  
  
"Me?"  
The lady's anger has no bounds, it seems, or perhaps Kaipo is busier than an oasis town has any right being if she is to be angry at every man that walks through her doors. "The way Tellah tells it, you stole Anna away in the dead of night. He's been plotting bloody murder since she left." and then she smiles, as though the thought pleases her. Perhaps it does. "Go on upstairs, all of you. Stop cluttering my hall."  
  
There's nothing to be done but follow orders; besides, Anna is their key to not walking through the desert all over again. The hovercraft is infinitely preferable and worth being yelled at. Worm water is thirst-quenching, but too much a chore to acquire.  
"You owe me," Rosa murmurs to Theodor as they climb the stairs. They're at the back of their small party, the better to talk quietly. "As soon as we're alone, I want to know everything." Theodor's fixed with a meaningful look as they reach the top of the stairs, which he does his best to ignore. He's woefully unsuccessful.  
  
Rydia chooses the table for them, and the four of them crowd around it. The girl's legs are quickly swinging as they did before, happy to be out of the sun at last, and Theodor has to settle away from the table so as not to crowd everybody's legs.  
"Those things in the sky," Edward says, carefully avoiding any explanation of the downstairs spat, "What were they?"  
"What things?"  
  
It's Rosa that asks as she pulls out a cloth to wipe at Rydia's face with. It's not been wetted and the girl struggles, but the cloth comes away grimy. "When was the last time you bathed?" she asks, almost to herself, and then her eyes meet Edward's again. "Those things? What do you mean?"  
"They looked almost like ships," Edward says, and dread trickles into Theodor's stomach. "Flying ones. A small fleet of them in the sky."  
"From which direction?"  
  
The question is urgently asked, and takes Edward by surprise. "Is it that important?"  
" _Yes_ ," Rosa's abandoned wiping Rydia's face, is gripping the cloth tightly in her fist. "From which direction?"  
Edward's whole face scrunches up as he thinks. It's an infantile expression, not endearing in the slightest. "The wall faces north, so-" he's muttering to himself as he tries to figure it out, and nods to himself twice, thrice, before he's satisfied with the answer. "From the south and west," he says after far too long. "From the mountain range."  
"Baron," Rosa says, and she's horrified as she looks to Theodor.


	5. Chapter 5

At Rosa's urging, Edward leaves the inn to find his wife. He leaves behind the two Baronian mages and their little charge sitting in numb silence, trying to make sense of it all.

"The King sent _diplomats_ ,” Rosa says over and over. “ _Diplomats_. Why then would he send the Red Wings on their tails?”  
“You know as well as I do, miss Rosa. You heard of Mysidia. Make the connection: what do the mages and the minstrels share?”  
“Trade routes? Policies?”  
“The _Crystal_ ,” Theodor says patiently. “Damcyan has ownership of the Fire Crystal. No amount of diplomatic weaselling would persuade the king and queen to hand that to Baron. Not before Mysidia. _Certainly_ not now.”

“What's a crystal do?” Rydia asks from between them. Rosa, stricken, does her best to smile gently at the girl, and strokes her hair.  
“It serves as a claim on land, and proof of majesty for those who need it,” she explains, and turns her gaze right back on Theodor. “We have to get to the castle as soon as possible.”  
“You're thinking of stopping the Red Wings?”

The young lady makes a helpless gesture and ends up drumming her fingers on the table in an anxious gesture. “I- I don't know. But we have to do something. We have to go and _help_ , Theodor.”  
“I don't know what you think you can do to help,” is his reply. It comes calm, measured. “If they do not hand the Crystal over, the Wings will take them by force. They have the power to do so.”  
“Damcyan's army-”  
“Damcyan's army have naught to fight back with, and less to prepare themselves for. The King demanded that the few engineers not drawing up new plans ground common crystals for – we were to use the dusts as reagents in spells, but you know how unstable crystal dust can be when packed tightly and set aflame.”

Rosa's face is the very picture of horror. “They're going to bomb the castle,” she whispers, and even her fingers have ceased drumming.  
“What's a bomb?” Rydia asks, looking between her two guardians as they hold each other's gaze – Rosa's lost, Theodor's unconcerned.

From down the stairs, they hear a commotion, and very soon footsteps thunder up toward them. They're heavy, like whoever they belong to has been taking the steps two at a time.

They belong to Edward. He's flushed from the exertion, bent double as he rests a moment on the landing, breathing heavily. Rosa gets to her feet immediately.  
“Are you- well, sir?”  
“Anna,” he forces out through laboured gasps, “She is not at home – no fire in the hearth – I do not know where she is.”

There's more bustling up the stairs as the innkeep finally makes her mind up to follow Edward, to find out what's wrong. Rydia, the only one beside Theodor still in her chair, looks between the harassed looking adults before turning her attention back to the tallest.  
“Is it the soldiers again? Have they come back?”

 

* * *

 

It turns out that Anna is neither at home, nor hiding in the inn, nor anywhere else that Edward can think to look.

He grows evermore panicked as their search continues. They split up to help him, as the longer he spends away from his wife the less coherent his thoughts seem to become. Rosa takes Rydia and leads her along the western wall, searching behind every oversized pickling pot for any sign of the lady, while Theodor leads Edward through the rest of the town. She's not at the market, now packing up for the day, nor resting on the verdant patch overlooking the oasis proper.

“She left no note,” Edward says miserably, staring at the water. “Would she truly have- left? Without a word? With nothing but the dress she wears? She's no money, no reason to run from the town she was born.”

Theodor, looking intently at the water, has an idea spring upon him. “Your craft,” he says carefully. “I assume anyone can operate it?”  
“Well, yes,” comes the answer. “One would need to know which order to press the buttons to start its engine, but without that knowledge-”

The mage holds up one overlarge hand to stop the rest of his explanation, and they hear it at the same time: the distinct chopping sound of a machine's engine roaring to life.  
“Anna,” Edward whispers, and might be rooted to the ground for the expression on his face.

There is only one thing for it. The walls are keeping them from running to the hovercraft before it departs, so Theodor can only think to splash into the clear water of the oasis – some distant part of his mind revels in how cool it is, how much a relief from the burning sun – and nearly yells as it comes right up to his knees. The water is not much deeper than that, but the mud and silt do try to suck his boots deep into its bed and keep him there. With a great effort he wrenches free, and again, and again, and tramps through the pond to the very edge of the wall that doesn't bother to encompass the water. And why should it? Theodor knows as well as the townspeople that the sahagin and other desperate beasts that prowl the desert would not be kept out by simple stone walls, no matter how tall they are built. Better for it to be exposed to the desert and for an unofficial accord to be made with nature.

It was cool while he still splashed through it, but he regrets it the moment he pulls free and scrambles to the sand. Water squelches between his toes with no way to exit his boots, watertight as they are, and he knows from experience that he'll have blisters come the morrow unless he does something about it soon, but there is a more pressing matter to attend: the hovercraft.

He can see it, and Anna within, furiously working in the pilot's seat – whatever she's doing, he thinks maybe he is too late. The engine roars too loud for his wordless yell to be heard, and he is not used to sand beneath his boots as opposed to good, hard earth. He stumbles more than once as he tries to reach the craft – yells again – if the lady takes off then Damcyan will be naught but rubble by the time they get there.

Rubble might even be too kind a future if the merchants put up a fight.

Whether she hears him or not, Anna looks around and visibly recoils at the sight of the tall mage rushing her way. She raises one hand and for a moment Theodor worries that perhaps she is able to cast magic, that she might stop him in his tracks or simply fry him where he stands, but all she does is push the goggles up her face. She stands as he approaches the edge of the craft.

“What has you so panicked?” she asks like she wasn't just trying to make off with the vehicle she sits in.  
“Your husband,” Theodor manages through heavy breaths, wishing the water in his boots would disappear already. “You would – leave without him?”

With the goggles high on her head now, Theodor can see her raise one slender eyebrow. “What makes you think that? Honestly, you city folk are so presumptuous. The hovercraft needed to be brought around to save you all time walking here – or to stop you from splashing through the pond,” she adds with a pointed look at Theodor's boots. The sun has already dried most of the droplets from the leather, but his feet are still uncomfortably damp within them.

“He... worried,” Theodor says carefully. Anna snorts and pulls the goggles down, over her eyes once more.  
“Of _course_ he did,” she replies, but fondly, like she has this problem every day. “He's a dear. Walk alongside the craft, now – or go, gather everyone. We must needs get to Damcyan with as much haste as we can muster.”

She ends the conversation by way of revving the hovercraft's engines, and Theodor takes a step back so she can bank away from the wall. Sand is kicked up in every direction courtesy of the craft, and he has to close his eyes as the vehicle is guided away from him. Though it hadn't been moving while they'd been talking, he can still taste grit between his teeth, and spits it out as best he can.

_Women_ , he thinks to himself, wiping the back of his mouth roughly, _must they all be so fierce of will?_

 

* * *

 

With Anna still at the helm of the hovercraft, they scream across the desert to the north-east. Theodor takes great pains to untie his cravat and retie it about his face so he isn't breathing in fine sand as they travel, and Rosa covers both herself and the green-haired child with her cape again so they do not suffer the same.

There's no talking, this time. They all fear the worst, though none have spoken aloud of what Baron is capable of. Rydia has asked questions here and there, but no one is answering, and she too has fallen into silence beneath Rosa's cloak.

For his part, Theodor contents himself with holding onto his hat and leaning back to watch the clouds speed by. It's not something he gets to do often, despite being ferried about by the Red Wings – no longer are there opportunities to relax and enjoy time passing. Even fraught as they all are with anxiety now, he still finds some peace in watching the sky.

So early in the day, he can already see the twin moons start their slow ascent, and soon he finds his eyes drawn to them. Often has he wondered about them: how they came to be, what life they progenate, why he feels so peaceful when he stares at them late at night when all the world but he slumbers. He wonders now whether – if civilisation does truly reign upon their cratered surfaces – its peoples stare down at their blue planet and their warring states and think of them as pitiful and infantile, unable to make peace with one another.

Anna's careful, silent piloting skills take them west of the vast mountain range toward the spray of sea. Rydia scrambles to the edge so enthusiastically that Theodor has to hook his fingers into the back of her clothing so she doesn't fall out, and Rosa, too, places a careful hand around the girl's ankle. Their married entourage says nothing of the display, though the child's joy does at least bring a smile to Edward's face, albeit a small one.

When the sun sinks on their second day travelling, they've only just made it past the mountain range. Rydia slumbers limply in Rosa's arms, and Theodor is dozing, lulled by the constant vibrations of the hovercraft.

“Bahamut's wings, is that _flame?_ ”

Rosa's voice bestirs him immediately. Blinking away the sleep that has gathered in his eyes, he follows her horrified gaze to the far horizon, where – sure enough – the telltale orange glow of a great fire rises into the night. Something uncomfortable sets up residence in his gut, and he looks back at Rosa, whose face mirrors his own expression.

At the helm of the craft, Anna's fingers have gone white around the steering mechanism. She looks grim, and it seems as though nothing can break her fierce reverie. Not the need for rest, no matter how late it is, and certainly not her husband's quiet, distraught moan from beside her.  
“ _No_ ,” the bard wails, and the sound lingers in Theodor's mind for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

The fire has burned itself out by the time dawn breaks.

That does not detract from the destruction in any way. Damcyan's desert castle is nothing more than a ruin, the merchant banners that once decorated its towers conspicuously absent. Even from a distance it is clear to see that great chunks of wall are simply missing, and the closer they draw the worse the devastation is. Carefully they navigate craters, the wind already trying to fill them in with ever-shifting sands, and the hovercraft pulls ever closer to what was once a thriving merchant camp and an open gate.

Rydia woke some time ago, and now sits fidgeting as Rosa keeps her hands firmly over the child's eyes. She herself looks grim, surveying every still body they pass, nose wrinkling whenever the scent of death and sulphur makes itself known to them. The closer they come to the castle, the more likely it seems her face will remain scrunched up until the end of days. Theodor simply readjusts the silk around his face and does not think of Mysidia, of what could very well have been.

He does not think of Mysidia as hard as he can possibly manage.

Anna takes the hovercraft as close to the crumbling building as she dares, away from the immediate stench of death and early decay. She looks to be searching for something in particular, though none think to ask what – that is, not until she thumps her fist on her own thigh and speaks for the first time that day. Her voice is hoarse with unshed tears.

“Crystal take that fleet,” she hisses before thumping her thigh again. No one makes any move to stop her, though the force will likely bring a bruise to fore before long. “The hangar for the craft is entirely destroyed, and I can't – I can't see a way in that keeps it sheltered...”

Beside her, Edward stirs as though from a dream. “Leave it,” he says to her, voice subdued. “We must – enter the castle. Leave the craft. There is none – none that would take it...”  
" _Enter_ ,” his wife says, entirely aghast. “Edward, no – look at the stone, I've never seen anything so unstable, we cannot-”  
“I must – my parents-...”

That has Anna fall silent. She chews her lip as she thinks this over, before nodding, and kills the hovercraft's engine without any further hesitation. Slowly the craft sinks into the sand below, the chopping of its engine fading quickly to silence, until they are alone with the desert and its ambience.

Theodor has visited Damcyan all of twice before. Each time was the castle surrounded by merchant banners and stalls, every colour imaginable flying prettily in the wind. Never was the area silent. Hawkers of both reputable and suspect backgrounds peddled their wares loudly to any that would listen, and many that tried their hardest not to. Never before was the land so silent – not even as night fell, when the merchants closed the flaps to their stalls and pitched cookfires instead of tents. The Damcyan royal guard patrolled the area, so the men and women that chose to live outside the castle had nothing to fear but cooking in the early rising sun, and the dark would thrum with the lively sounds of happy chatter and spitting flame.

He thinks that now, if he paid close attention, he could hear each individual grain of sand shift.

“Edward,” Rosa is saying gently as he thinks of the play of dunes, “I do not mean to sound insensitive, but your – I do not think any survivors remain here,” she amends.  
“ _No_ ,” Edward says, and his breath hitches. Whatever he goes looking for will send him hysterical, Theodor has no doubt of that. “They would not be with the camps – father would be at the throne, mother would be – by his side, or in her chamber – I _must_ ,” and before anyone can tell him otherwise or pull him back, he is scrambling out of the craft and racing toward the broken entrance.

At once the rest of his entourage hastens to follow. Anna is the first to jump out after her husband, with Rosa quickly following, but she halts, spins, and Theodor understands her horrified look back toward the craft at the same time Rydia claps her hands to her mouth, eyes bulging as she stares out at the devastation.

“ _Theodor, please_!”

He needs no further prompting. His single hand is large enough to cover most of Rydia's face, and it is a simple enough matter to draw mana to the fore and send the child's mind to sleep. He hopes it is dreamless.

When he climbs down from the craft, both women have disappeared into the castle. That leaves him and the limp girl, who weighs little more than a couple of sacks of tubers. He places her over his shoulder with ease and follows his comrade into the castle.

It's worse inside. Whatever the Red Wings did to the place, it snuffed all the torches out, and the crumbling stone has blocked off many embrasures and what little light they let through. He has to step carefully over the great chunks of stone that now litter the otherwise gorgeous castle – the stone is lighter than that used in Baron's construction, and great plush carpets have had dust and what looks like blood trodden into the fibres.

The only path Theodor can follow is forward, through hallways made narrow by damage and past still bodies. He tries not to look at them too carefully, Mysidia still too fresh in his mind, but he sees no distinctive uniform of the Red Wings amongst the dead. Despite the many corpses he sees, he thinks that there are yet more that may well have survived. Only a paltry number litter the floor compared to the great garrison that he is used to seeing roam Baron's halls – but then, Damcyan has never mongered war quite as much as its neighbour...

Thankfully, the hallway he walks broadens as he reaches its end. As a river to the sea, it acts as a mouth to a great room, where something of a scene awaits. Edward on his knees, head bowed, shoulders shaking, and Anna, sobbing over the body of an old man Theodor does not recognise.

Gently, he shifts Rydia from one shoulder to the other, and goes to stand with Rosa, who watches on with a crease between her brows.  
“Is the man so important?” he murmurs to her. Neither they nor the injured but still lively inhabitants of the castle that have tucked themselves against the wall dare to approach. Theodor looks the survivors over with a critical eye before deeming none of them worth much mind. Alive they might be, but capable of much beyond bleeding and breathing they are not.

Rosa rolls one of her shoulders before she answers. “He must be. I dare not go to them – I fear their tears are confirmation enough that he has passed on.”  
If there is anyone in this room that knows death, it is the lady Rosa, who learned to set bones when other ladies of her age were being married off. She does not speak of the people she has to put back together, but rumours abound throughout the barracks and the mages' workshops of a young lady pouring magic into a man's open chest to keep his heart beating.

The apparent death of the old man only gives her pause for so long. Anna's weeping is hard to bear, and she waits for a lull in the grief before she takes a hesitant step forward. “Miss Anna?”

Anna is a perfect picture of sorrow. Her face is red and blotchy from the tears, her hair stuck to her cheeks from where she has tried to wipe the tears away. “ _You_ ,” she says, and the word sounds as though it has clawed its way from her throat. “This is _your fault_!”  
The accusation startles Rosa to silence, and rings in Theodor's ears. “I- I don't understand-”  
“You're _one of them_. Baron. _I heard you_ ,” and now Anna scrambles to her feet. Edward follows, grabs a hold of her wrist before she can force her way over to lace her words with physical violence.  
“Please, my love,” he begs, and holds valiantly on as his wife tries to wrest free.  
“You heard them too, Edward! They're the enemy! They're of the same stock as the ones that _murdered my father_ – her, and that tall freak! The child, too, most like!”

Rosa casts a look back at the girl in question, who still slumbers over Theodor's shoulder, and raises open palms. “Please,” she says, “Please, listen, we have nothing to do with Damcyan's destruction.”  
“ _Save your filthy lies!_ ” Anna is apoplectic, and wrenches free of Edward's grip to march forward. She is of a height with Rosa, and yet her rage makes her seem so much larger. Theodor cannot blame his companion for quailing in the face of such emotion. “You're _Baron_ , I'll not believe a word from your mouth, you _harpy_ – how _dare_ you come here and profane these halls-”

There is only so much space between Anna's balled fists and Rosa's unprotected self, and Theodor cannot suffer this any longer. Gently, he places Rydia to the floor, her head lolling about carelessly, and draws himself up to his full height. Even without the hat adding to his stature, he's intimidating, and he knows as much.  
“Step closer and I will be forced to blind or bind you,” he says, and the effect is instant. Anna turns her ferocious gaze on him. It does nothing to cow him, he who has been on the receiving end of Rosa's well-intentioned ministrations for most of his adult life. He stares down at the young lady, finds himself unmoved by her tear-stricken face, and raises one hand in warning. It matters not that his palm is empty: if she comes closer, he will hex her.

Theodor doesn't get the chance. Rosa, ever the peacemaker, shoots him a sharp glance before softening her features and turning to what might be their only salvation – the bard that yet hangs back. “Please,” she says once more, and her voice has taken on a particular pleading quality. “Please, Edward, we mean you no harm. We might be of Baron, but we've nothing to do with this- this senseless violence!”

Whatever Edward believes, he is having a hard time tearing his eyes from his wife and the man that has now threatened her. His eyes dart from Rosa to Anna to Rosa once more and it is clear that whatever answer he seeks has not made itself known to him. In this room lays nothing but dead men and questions.

“Lady Rosa,” he says – haltingly, like he doesn't trust himself to say the right thing - “I would have you tell me the truth.”

 


End file.
